#so i enjoy the proper winter

[milkywayan]

most of my friends think i am insane because i am super happy it finally has -10°C

[lieutenantselnia]

Yesterday I've been doing some proper physical exercise for the first time since last year and I'm just imagining how proud my f/os would be of me🥹

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

I'm not okay with October slipping into July temps. Nope. We may be seeing 80 F/27 C this weekend. After two weeks of cold enough to turn on the heat, we gave this shit moving in. This is unacceptable. Summer is over. Go away.

[wyrdle]

Cheers

A little comic to sort of rework the ending a bit better ish. Some inspiration from @sicklyseraphnsuch's writing here. Some notes in the cut!

Ok, so I wasn't the biggest fan of the show's execution of the ending. Thought it was underwhelming, spent time in the wrong places, and accidentally made Simon carry a bit more blame than he should've.

My fixes would've been to smoosh more moments of Simon learning this lesson + his importance in his universe earlier in Winter King + The Star. Ep 9 jumpcut to the bus sequence again, sans the letting betty go bit, as it's revealed he's in Golb's presence. Cue an entire episode flashing through his and Betty's lives, because I think we never got to really hammer into Simon that life is worth living/moving on with despite their mistakes (he realises those mistakes himself earlier, and we don't need that Casper Nova nonsense.) Bla bla bla Ep 10, after a proper apology, thank you, and goodbye, we can satisfactorily blow Simon home etc. Half of the remainder ep to answer burning questions about how him + Fionna + Cake are healing. Anyway. Obviously I can't do those cinematic things in a comic, and I admit the script in this one could be cleaner/tighter but whatever haha. Enjoy! Please don't repost elsewhere thank youuuu

[malfoys-demigod]

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: Just a quick fluff drabble where the reader’s out admiring the morning snow, but also at the same time not wanting to admit she’s cold and of need of a jacket

A/N: Hi all!! It has been a while since I wrote. Life has been so hectic for me, but ever since I watched Deadpool and Wolverine recently, the love I have for X-men came back and I really loved seeing tons of Wolverine fics pop up!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

There was always something magical about the first morning snow at the X Mansion that made Y/N feel like the happiest girl in the world.

There was that feeling of serenity and calm that comes from snowy environments which she loved feeling every winter. It would prompt nostalgic memories: childhood fun, holidays spent yearning for a white Christmas - it just made her happy.

So when the first snow arrived early in the morning, Y/N got up as fast as she could, slipping on her favorite winter boots as she made a dash out to the entrance of the X Mansion, only wearing her long-sleeved pajama top and jogging pants.

There it was.

A fresh blanket of snow, covering the whole landscape of the area, as more snow fell down gracefully from the sky. Y/N was enjoying the sound of silence - watching the snow flutter down like magical confetti, which felt so healing to her.

She watched as the trees were heavy with snow on its tips, smelling damp pine cones from a distance. She never felt so happy.

That was until she took a few steps outward from the driveway with her last step causing her to take a small slip into a soft blanket of snow. She was now laying on wet snow, laughing her ass off from being so reckless out of nowhere all alone. The gleaming snow around her was what made her choose to stay grounded on the floor, expanding her arms and legs as they made snow angel movements.

It was only a matter of time for Y/N to start experiencing the frost bitten feeling around her body, numbing her as she continued staying out in the snow without proper protecting from being frozen. Yet.. she didn’t exactly have plans on going back in to wear protective gear just yet.

Meanwhile back inside the X Mansion, Logan had just woken up from a surprisingly good sleep. He didn’t have any nightmares to fight off this time. He actually woke up peacefully.

He got up, wore his regular leather jacket, fixed himself up quickly, and took a look at his window, seeing white, as he discovered the first snow of the season.

What he then noticed after was Y/N, lying down on the carpet of snow, with a smile on her face. Logan swore he almost felt a smile on himself growing too fast for his liking. He always kept his relationship with Y/N to a friendly-teasing kind of thing going on, but deep down, he always wanted to see if he could have more than that with his colleague.

His face definitely returned to his typical serious form, as he took a closer look at Y/N… with tingling cold finger tips, shivering slightly. He wondered why she wasn’t returning yet inside to warm up, and a level of concern grew in him, picturing her as a poor, frost bitten kitten, who needed help.

He turned around and made his way outside at full speed.

The heavy crunches of the snow under Logan’s feet as he stomped towards her caused Y/N to sit up and turn around.

Logan huffed at the sight of his kitten, looking bitterly cold now as her arms were crossed tightly. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

She smiled childishly with pink spots on her cheeks, which Logan discretely found lovable. “Um, enjoying the first snow?”

Logan had a displeased look on his face, definitely due to her reply. “No shit, but ever thought of doing it with extra layers on? You’re gonna freeze yourself to death, bub. You don’t want the kids to wake up on the first day of snow and see their teacher frozen over, do ya?”

Y/N was too amused with the silly, impossible idea of turning into an iced sculpture to even notice the worried look Logan had on his face. “Oh come on, Lo,” she brushed it off, “I’m fine. A little cold won’t hurt me.”

Logan was about to protest until Y/N brought out a small sneeze. She pointed at him her best straight-face, wanting to speak up first after her ‘A little cold won’t hurt me’ statement.

“Shut up, Logan,” she commanded, “That was nothing. I’m fine.”

The secretly smitten man, rolled his eyes, not buying a single thing she said. “Alright, here we go” he said, pulling her up for her to stand on her feet as she whined, “Hey!”

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside.” He pleaded after she complained with her frowns.

“But I really just wanted to stay a few minutes longer then I’ll go back in,” she admitted, giving her best ‘Puss-in-Boots adorable eyes’ that made Logan want to fold so damn easily. But he shook his head, removing his favorite leather jacket, that he would never just give to anyone. Her few minutes were definitely not few minutes and he knew that.

“Take it and wear it,” he surrendered.

Y/N lightly gasped, knowing very well that Logan and his leather jacket were famously inseparable. She was too flustered to say anything at the moment, so she took the jacket from him, mumbled a thank you, and started wearing it.

Logan had definitely taken a liking to what he was seeing. She looked so good in his jacket and he was captivated by how adorable she looked, with the jacket looking slightly oversized on her.

Y/N felt her heartbeat move faster when she taken a notice at Logan’s fitted black shirt, outlining the muscles that attracted her since the first day they met. She looked away, looking down at her shoes, hoping her cheeks weren’t pinker than they were earlier.

“You wanna join me for those last few minutes?” She asked teasingly with a small smile on her face. How could he say no to her?

He ‘nonchalantly’ huffed a ‘kay and sat down with her on the ground. She shifted a little closer to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. While her eyes were focused on the snow in front of her falling from a distance, his eyes were on her, wanting to make sure he saw her reaction to when the shoulder she was leaning on moved up, as Logan started wrapping his arm on her, getting them closer than how they were just a second ago.

Logan smirked to himself, seeing how red-faced Y/N was now, still focusing her attention on the snow, as she was avoiding eye contact with Logan, who was now hoping they spend more than a few minutes cozying up together before heading back in.

Maybe after that, he could treat her to hot chocolate, because of course, it was cold and he without a doubt thinks it’s the only nice thing to do afterwards…! *wink*

@snackthatsmilesbackchlldren @iluvloganhowlett (shoutout to you and your amazing fic so far! love seeing your works!)

[joonsmagicshop]

Sundress Season

Summary: The heat of the summer means you are suddenly only wearing sundresses. Short, tight, impossibly cute dresses that make Jungkook feel things. When he decides to jerk off before a beach day with you little does he know you would accidently walk in...and like what you see.

Paring: Jungkook/Reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: porn with slight plot, secret crush, friends to lovers, Jungkook is down bad, fantasizing, male masturbation, accidental voyeurism, handjob, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex with protection, POV switch between him and reader, dirty talk, he calls her good girl at one point, slight fluff at the end, Namjoon mention cause he is my bias

Authors Note: okay so. I was about to take a nap and this idea popped into my head and I JUMPED out of bed to write it! It has been hot as hell all summer long and honestly unpopular opinion but I am ready for fall. Was gonna save this for Jungkook's birthday but oh well!

Also this was loosely inspired by a One Direction fic I read over ten years ago. While the fic is gone it is definitely not forgotten

Jungkook was someone who liked the summer months.

He liked the longer brighter days, the food eaten from a barbeque, bonfires with friends, and all the fun events that happen over the summer.

It was prime time for everyone to get out and do things before the harsh dull winter arrived.

However, this summer was different because by the time August rolled around Jungkook was just….over it.

He chalked it up to a lot of things.

The fact he didn’t get a proper haircut before the summer started, so he spent the whole time with a hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back from his sweaty neck.

The fact he had a song coming out at the end of August that he still wasn’t completely sure about so he spent most of his days either working on it in his studio or from the comfort of his own home.

Or maybe it was the fact almost all summer long the weather had been very hot and very humid, making his clothes stick to his skin the second he walked out the door and making it almost impossible to actually enjoy going out and doing anything.

Jungkook sighed as he crossed another day off his calendar that hung on the wall in his home office counting down the days until August was over.

Sure the start of September was his birthday and he was excited for that but he was mostly getting excited about the prospect of cooler weather and no more daunting deadlines hanging over his head like an angry raincloud.

As his best friend, you could tell Jungkook wasn’t enjoying this summer. His usual free-spirited nature seemed to be crushed by the weight of his work and also the humidity, which seemed to linger no matter how many summer rainstorms blew through.

So you had texted him a week ago asking if he wanted to have a beach day with you today.

You assured him all he had to do was drive and grab beach umbrellas and you would take care of the rest for him, making the food and grabbing a cooler full of drinks.

Jungkook was ecstatic at the idea and made sure to work extra hard this past week to give himself a day off to spend with you.

However, that did pose another problem for Jungkook as he left his home office to head back to his bedroom to make sure his beach bag was packed.

Sunscreen, towel, extra towel in case, his goggles for when he swam, his phone, a book Namjoon had told him he should read even though it had been three months since it had been loaned out to Jungkook and he still had not even opened it, a notebook and a pen in case a song idea came to him, headphones, sunglasses and lastly some of his favorite chips he was packing just in case.

While he was all packed and ready to go, there was still a big problem he was dealing with.

How was he supposed to deal with being around you while you were dressed in one of your many sundresses?

Somewhere online had dubbed it a “sundress summer” due to the humidity and the trend took off instantly. It seemed like everywhere he went girls were wearing these short cute sundresses because in their words it was too hot to wear pants.

You usually were not a trend follower as you opted to choose your own style but this was a trend you could get behind, and soon enough Jungkook found you wearing sundresses almost every day.

Soft blue ones with little bows on the straps, bright red ones with white flowers, and even some strapless ones that nearly made his eyes pop out of his head at the sight.

He genuinely didn’t think he would survive this summer if you kept up with this, especially since most of the sundresses were short and had a habit of billowing in the breeze making you grab the skirt and giggle.

The other big problem was you had no idea the turmoil Jungkook had been in all summer long.

You both were friends, growing up across the street from each other and hanging out almost every day. You went to the same grade school, and the same high school, and were inseparable. You supported his dreams of being an idol and he supported your goals and dreams too.

You had no idea that this was the summer that everything changed for him. When he realized that you were not just his best friend, but also a charismatic stunning woman who he started to gain a crush on.

Jungkook tried his best to keep the crush to himself. He didn’t want to lose you as a friend and it would be devastating to get rejected by you so he figured he would just keep it hidden and keep being your friend.

He would try his best not to scowl anytime a man came up to you and offered to buy you a drink. He would pretend it didn’t hurt when you would kiss strangers at the club wrapping your fingers through their hair and moaning against their lips.

He hated that when you dropped a guy because of whatever reason, his heart would do a little victory dance in his chest and he would try to look like a supportive friend and not a desperate loser who just wanted you to feel the same way about him as he did about you.

There were times though, when Jungkook was sure you felt….something.

How your eyes would linger when he took off his shirt. How you would always ask him to roll up his sleeve so you could look at the array of tattoos he had, how angry you got when that girl he really liked ghosted him a year ago.

There were times when he would also catch you staring at his lips. Just a quick downward flick of your eyes and in a blink it was gone.

But Jungkook noticed.

And he often wondered what would happen if he leaned in and kissed you.

Would he have read the entire situation wrong? Or would you kiss him back?

Jungkook shakes his head to rid him of these thoughts as he scoops everything up and puts it in his beach bag muttering to himself how he is being silly about this whole thing.

He is your friend.

And that’s that.

His phone vibrates on his dresser startling him, as he zips the bag closed and grabs it.

You: I have all the goods we need! I’m so excited for our beach day Kookie. Text me when you want me to head over. Might take a bit because of Saturday traffic.

Jungkook smiles at your pet name for him even though you have used it a million times and he quickly texts you back letting you know he was ready and you could come over whenever.

Jungkook’s vehicle had more storage space so you were going to drive to his place and he was going to drive to the beach. Plus his car had a sunroof which you absolutely adored and you often put your hands above your head like you were on a rollercoaster to feel the wind between your fingers.

It made him smile every time and made his heart pound in his chest.

Those were the moments of pure bliss where he felt his heart would burst out of his chest at all the feelings he had for you.

Feelings he was still trying to desperately hide.

Namjoon of course found out one night when Jungkook had one too many drinks and spilled his guts about it. Namjoon was patient with Jungkook as he told the entire story, how the crush came out of nowhere, and how he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose you.

As always Namjoon was the voice of reason and told Jungkook just to talk to you about it and Jungkook shot that idea down right away.

Namjoon promised to keep his mouth shut until Jungkook was ready to tell you himself which Jungkook vowed he would never… ever do. Your friendship was very important. He would take this secret with him to the grave.

With nothing else to do until you arrived, Jungkook shucked his beach bag off his bed and laid down.

He threw an arm over his face and let out a frustrated groan.

How the hell was he supposed to survive having a beach day with you? You were so beautiful. So sexy in your little sundresses, seeing you in a bathing suit would destroy him.

His mind wandered to last week when you met him for a lunch break you forced him to have because he was working so hard that he started skipping meals.

You showed up to his studio with food in hand and a little black sundress with small white and pink flowers scattered all over it.

The straps were so tiny and delicate and tied together with small pink bows and Jungkook couldn’t help but stare, as you brushed past him to put the food on the small coffee table he kept in his studio.

As you leaned down the dress climbed higher up your body, exposing more of your legs and the apex of your thighs to his hungry gaze and he couldn’t help it.

The blood rushed to his cock so quickly he felt dizzy as he scrambled to sit on the couch before you noticed he popped a boner because of you in that damn sundress.

You didn’t seem to notice as you sat next to him and chatted about your day as you ate alongside him.

Jungkook tried to focus on what you were saying, he really did, but his eyes kept trailing down to your thighs and how tanned they looked due to all the time you spent outside.

What he wouldn’t give to pull that dress up higher and expose more of yourself to him. What would you do if he got his fingers between those legs? How would you sound moaning out his name as he plunges a finger inside?

Back in the present time Jungkook groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

He could hardly hear the sounds of the lawnmower outside, or the kids screaming down the block as blood was pounding in his ears and he looked down with a grimace as he was hard in his swim trunks.

Achingly hard.

Just the memory of you in that dress alone made his cock fill rapidly and the bulge was evident as his cock stretched the material.

Now was not the time to pop a boner as you were going to be showing up soon but he felt like if he didn’t take care of it now it would never go down so he slowly lifted his hips to shuck off his swim shorts throwing them somewhere on the floor and freeing his aching cock.

His cock sat hard and heavy on his stomach as the head of it was a flushed red color. Jungkook took his time tracing his tattooed hand down his body, shivering when the air conditioning turned on, turning his nipples hard as he finally made his way to his cock.

He circled his cock which twitched in his hand and he got to work.

He threw his head back and imagined what would happen if he did lift your dress higher that day.

How you would stare at him all wide-eyed and shocked as he exposed your pussy. How you would be wet and throbbing for him. He would of course ask for permission before touching you and you would admit you’ve wanted this for ages.

Jumgkook sped up his movements on his cock, flicking his wrist over the cockhead and smearing his precum down his heated shaft. He always got so messy and wet when he imagined you and the glide felt amazing.

In his mind’s eye, you were grabbing his arm for support as his other hand explored your pussy. He would part your pussy lips so gently and you would be soaked for him. You would arch up into his fingers and beg for his touch as he would finally coat his finger in your wetness.

He would pop it into his mouth and taste you as you would whine and beg him for more.

The taste of you would explode on his tongue and he knew the second it touched his tongue it was over for him. He would never want to taste anyone else but you.

Jungkook sped up his movements once again as his muscles started to strain. He was getting close as his thumb flicked over his cockhead sending jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He would lay you back on the couch in his studio and fuck you open with one finger. You would be so wet for him, so needy for him. Your dress hiked up to expose yourself, one strap falling off your shoulder as you whine out his name.

Jungkook tightens his grip on his cock and begins to fuck up into his fist. His head is thrown back and his dark hair is a mess on his pillow. He bites his bottom lip to keep from whining your name out loud. His cock is throbbing in his hand, hot and hard and so desperate to release all over his twitching stomach.

He wants to make you cum apart all over his fingers. He wants to tease you, taste you, fill you up with his cock, and make you moan his name.

His hand speeds up as his hips fuck his cock wildly up into his hand.

Sweat is starting to form on his brow and he is close, so close he can feel his muscles tighten and his balls draw up. His cock is a sticky mess as he is leaking so much precum the glide is impeccable and the wet sounds are obscene.

“Y/N.” He groans unable to keep his noises contained as the muscles on his arms are bulging as he rubs his hand across his frenulum collecting the mess there to slide it down his shaft.

Jungkook can feel the beginning of his orgasm as he cries out your name and tightens his hand around his shaft jerking his cock quickly as the pressure builds.

He is right there.

His balls tighten, and he can feel his shaft contracting and spasming. His heart rate is rapid and the hair on his arms stands up.

“Kook?” He hears a soft small voice call and his eyes snap open as panic seizes his body. He released his cock to grab a pillow to cover himself as his head whips around to see you standing there in one of your sundresses looking horrified.

Holy fuck.

“Y/N!” He cries out, shoving the pillow over his cock which is still thrumming with need and twitching painfully as his orgasm is still just right there but you are also standing....right there.

He sits up against the headboard and puts a hand over his racing heart as he stares at you wide-eyed in absolute horror.

He was jerking off to you. His best friend. Moaning your name. And you walked in on him caught in the act.

Holy fuck he was so fucked.

“I-texted you to let you know I was here but you didn’t answer. I remembered where you keep the spare key so I-l-Let myself in.” You stammered unable to look away as Jungkook wished the bed and floor would swallow him hole.

You had driven over so excited to see Jungkook today and you even wore your best sundress just for him.

The pale blue one with the small bow in between the built-in cups.

You made sure to get all his favorite foods and snacks as you knew he had been working himself to death and you wanted to treat him.

He didn’t answer your knocks or your texts so you figured maybe he had his music on too loud once again and didn’t hear you.

You put the key in the door and were met with utter silence, which was a little weird but you figured he was in the back getting the umbrellas or something so you made your way through his apartment until you heard a noise.

A soft grunt that had you worried. Maybe he hurt himself? Maybe he was sick?

You flew to his bedroom and there he was.

All sprawled out on the bed with his shorts discarded on the floor. He was still wearing his white tee shirt and had his head thrown back against his pillows with his legs spread wide exposing himself to you.

You knew you should leave, you knew this was a private moment but you couldn’t help but stare as he worked his cock with his hand.

He was big and even from where you stood you could see how wet his cock was and how slick he sounded when he jerked it.

You knew you should step away, maybe stand outside until it was over but you were rooted to the spot as you watched his hips arch up and the filthiest moans leave his pink parted lips.

And when he moaned your name

Dear god when he moaned your name you felt your own arousal pool in your bikini shorts as you gripped the door for support.

Jungkook moaning your name.

He was fantasizing about you

He was the most gorgeous man you had ever met and he chose to fantasize about you when he jerked off.

The whole thing felt unreal.

“I-I- You… you weren’t supposed to-I didn’t mean for you to- fuck.” Jungkook stuttered as you put your bag down on the floor and entered his room.

His large dark eyes widened when you made your way to the bed and you could see his fingers flexing on the decorative pillow he threw over his lap to cover himself.

“I-fuck- I’m so sorry you probably h-h-ate me and think I’m a pervert- I-I can-explain.” He stammers cheeks flushed with the prettiest blush you had ever seen.

Jungkook continued to stammer out apologies as you stared down at him in shock. His hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead and his chest was heaving. You could see his muscles straining through the white material of his shirt and his hand held the pillow firmly over his cock.

Was he still hard?

Was he still horny?

Was he actually jerking off to you?

“Y/N please say something. Please.” He begs in a small voice as your eyes finally meet his and he looks in anguish over the whole thing.

“Were you…jerking off….to me?” You ask in awe as he flushes further and sits up higher on the bed.

His teeth bite into his lower lip as you sit softly on the edge of the bed.

“I-I can-I-” He stammers.

“Yes or No Jungkook?” You ask firmly.

His eyes widen and he nods. He hangs his head in shame and you feel your pussy throb.

Jungkook, your best friend, the guy you have had a crush on since high school was hot and bothered because of you.

It made you beam in excitement.

“Show me.” You say boldly as his eyes snap to yours and widen in shock.

“I-Uh- W-What?” He says.

“I want to see you finish. Or help you finish. Show me, Koo?” You plead as his tongue comes out to lick at his lip and the tension in the room is thick like the humidity outside.

“You don’t hate me? Or think I’m creepy? You’re not going to yell at me?” He says doe eyes wide as his hand twitches on the pillow again.

“Of course not. Masturbation is normal. I’m honored you’re even thinking of me in the first place.” You say as you slowly run your hand down his forearm.

“I died. I must have died or hit my head cause there is no way this is real. Holy fuck.” He mutters as you giggle and Jungkook can feel his cock, which had gone immediately soft at being caught, start to thicken behind the pillow.

“This is real. And I gotta admit. It’s hot as fuck you think of me when you touch yourself.” You admit as he blinks shyly at you.

“Can’t help it. These sundresses…fuck.” He says fingering the fabric of your dress before running a shaky hand through his long hair.

“Show me, Koo? Please.” You beg and he nods slowly as his teeth bite into his lower lip harshly.

“Don’t bite your lip Koo you’re gonna make yourself bleed.” You whisper as he lets out a breathy nervous laugh.

“Can’t help it. ‘m nervous.” He admits.

“No need to be nervous. It’s just me.”

“That’s the problem. The girl I’m fantasizing about is right in front of me wanting to see me jerk off. I’m so pent up I’m scared I’m gonna bust a nut all over this pillow.” He whimpers as you giggle.

“Then you better get to work. Show me? Please, Koo? Wanna see up close.”

He nods and removes the pillow baring his half-hard cock to you.

You gasp when you see it and Jungook covers his eyes in embarassment.

Even half-hard his cock is beautiful. The head is flushed a pretty pink color and there is a vein running up it that makes your mouth water.

“So pretty Koo.” You praise, as he removes his hands and stares at you in awe.

He slowly takes his cock in his hand and begins to jerk it. You watch as the flushed head disappears between his fist and how he takes his time with himself, flicking his wrist occasionally making pretty beads of precum leak out the slit.

It doesn’t take long for him to get to full hardness and he lets go of his cock to show you how it smacks against his stomach.

He is rock hard and leaking and the vein that winds up his cock is a lot more prominent now as the head of his cock is now a pretty flushed red color and shiny, so shiny.

“Fuck Koo you are so big.” You whimper as without warning you wrap your hand around his cock and his hips arch up into your touch as a broken moan spills from his lips.

“Can I?” You ask with a quirk of your eyebrow as he nods frantically and you snicker.

You take your time with him jerking him the way you saw him do to himself. You flick your wrist when you get to the top and you use your thumb to smear the precum over the head of his cock and his slit. He is so velvety and warm under your touch you let out a soft whine as you jerk him.

Jungkook is a mess below you. His chest is heaving, his muscles are straining and he is trying his best to hold back and not cum the second you get your hands on him.

“F-Fuck I hate to say this b-but ‘m close.” He whines in panic.

“Can you hold back a little longer so I can taste you?” You ask innocently as he bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes trying to take deep breaths and stop the incessant throbbing of his cock. His denied orgasm from earlier was making him needy and he needed to calm himself down before he made a mess all over your fist.

You lean down and slowly give the head of his cock kitten licks. Jungkook moans above you and you grin as you finally take him into your mouth.

Your mouth is hot and wet and everything Jungkook had ever wanted as you suck him down, bobbing your head and humming around him, causing vibrations to run up his shaft.

With your other hand, you jerk him, picking up speed as you suck him off and when your tongue flicks over his frenulum Jungkook is a goner.

He croaks out your name and holds back your hair as he cums down your throat. No warning could have pulled you off his cock as you swallow everything he has to give, slowing your strokes and milking his cock for all that he has.

“S-Sensitive. Fuck.” He whines out as you pull off and open your mouth to show him proudly that you swallowed it all.

“You are trying to kill me. Holy fuck.” He breathes out as you giggle and curl up next to him, lacing your fingers together and waiting for him to come down from his high.

You can feel the uncomfortable wetness between your thighs but you don’t worry about that now as you bury your face in his chest and listen to his breathing settle.

“I’m dead. Like I’m actually dead. No way that happened.” He pondered as you giggle and pinch his side

“Ouch! What was that for!” He cries out as you sit up and smirk at him.

“Dead people can’t feel pinches. You are very much alive.” You say smiling down at him as sits crisscrossed on the bed and stares at you.

“You-You jerked me off.” He says

“I did.” You reply with a smug smile.

“I- I imagined I was fingering you and suddenly you were here…jerking me off.” He wonders aloud.

“Mm, you fingering me. That’s hot,” you say feeling your pussy throb.

“But we were friends aren’t we?” He asks in a small timid voice.

“Friends can jerk each other off. Though... I would like to be more than friends.” You reply feeling your heart racing in your chest.

“Like…fuck buddies?” He replies as his tongue comes out to lick at his lips and you can’t help but laugh.

“I was thinking we could go on a date.”

His eyes bulge and his cheeks turn a beautiful dusty pink.

“I’ve liked you for years now Koo. I didn’t think you felt the same but walking in on you… moaning my name…. Fuck.” You say running a hand through your hair.

Jungkook doesn’t respond.

And for a breath, you are worried you read the whole thing wrong and fucked this friendship up.

But then he leans forward, tangles his hands in your hair, and kisses you.

And you kiss him right back.

The kiss is passionate and wild. You press your lips hard into his and pour out all those days and weeks and months of looking at him and wishing he was yours. Jungkook moans against your mouth which gives you access to swipe your tongue along his lower lip as he groans.

“Fuc-Fuck I feel the same way.” He mutters against you as he flips you over with ease and has you pinned to the bed.

You giggle when you look up and see him overtop of you, his eyes wide with disbelief and his lips red and swollen.

He swoops in and kisses you again as you run your hands down his strong back and arch up into his touch. His lips move with yours and you boldly wrap your legs around his back to push his crotch into yours making him grunt against your mouth.

“Let me make you feel good.” He groans as you nod.

Jungkook fixes the pillows behind your head and gets to work peppering kisses on your cheeks and down your neck causing you to arch up into his touch and moan.

You are beyond needy at this point and when he tugs at the straps of your dress to kiss at your shoulders you moan out his name and flutter your eyes closed.

His lips feel like heaven and when he finally had enough kissing he kneels above you and you open your eyes.

“I never thought this day would come. You in a sundress, laying in my bed. Fuck I’m the luckiest guy alive.” He says as you smile up at him with adoration.

Jungkook’s warm hands come to rest on your thighs and he slowly and carefully lifts up your dress to expose your body to him.

His eyes widen when he takes in the black bathing suit bottoms you picked out which are modest enough for the beach but have two tantalizing ties at the sides holding the material together.

“Thank god I got you in my bed. It would have been so difficult seeing you in these bottoms without getting hard.” He admits as his hand toys with the ties and when he finally unties them both and pulls the fabric off of your body you are panting below him.

You snicker when you see his cock bobbing between his legs at the sight of you and he wraps a hand around himself to stroke his cock to ease some of the ache.

“Hey, you already got your turn!” You tease as he releases his cock and grins sheepishly at you.

“May I?” He asks and you nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers part your folds and he swears under his breath.

“Fucking soaked for me. Just like I imagined.”

He gathers your wetness and brings it up to your clit as he rubs you in slow circles causing you to arch off the bed and whine out his name.

Jungkook continues to circle your clit agonizingly slow and he snickers when you beg him for more.

“How are we going to have sex and make it to the beach if you're going this slow.” You say as his eyes widen and his movements halt.

“Koo.” You whine as you grab at his wrist to get him to do something…anything.

“You want to have sex?” He asks shyly as you stare down at him.

“I’d like to. Only if you want to though. I’m okay with this too.” You admit as you see his cock twitching between his legs again.

“I want to have sex with you.” He says as he pulls you in for another rough kiss and his hands return to your pussy with enthusiasm.

“Can I slip a finger inside? Gotta prep you for my cock.” He growls against your lips as you nod and he gathers more wetness on his middle finger before slipping it inside your tight wet heat.

You cry out his name and grab onto his bicep as he thrusts his finger in and out of your body. He wastes no time adding another finger and the stretch makes you whine but he is careful and takes his time until you are moaning again and begging him to move.

He scissors his fingers causing you to flutter your eyes closed and arch up into his touch. Your whole body is on fire and when he curls his fingers you feel every muscle in your body start to tense as you grind down on them desperate for more.

You blindly reach down for his cock which is now standing hard and proud and when you circle it Jungkook hisses and uses his free hand to swat yours away.

You open your eyes to frown at him but he curls his fingers up inside you again and you are seeing stars.

“I’ll cum if you jerk me off Y/N. I swear this is so hot I’m so fucking hard right now. Don’t wanna cum around your fist.” he explains as you grin.

“Then fuck me and cum inside me instead.” You offer as he removes his fingers and you open your eyes in time to see him pop them in his mouth.

You gasp as he licks your slick off his fingers moaning at the taste and your pussy throbs impatiently as he takes his time.

“Koo please.” You beg as he finally gets his fingers clean and he hops off the bed to retrieve a condom.

You watch as he rips open the packet and rolls the condom down his length. He strokes himself and whimpers, which makes you smile to know he is just as desperate as you are

“How do you want it?” He asks hovering above you, lips inches from your own.

“Doesn’t matter just want you.”

He carefully drags your body to the end of the bed and you giggle when he opens your legs and wraps them around his torso.

You stare up at him as he takes his time to tie back his hair.

“Koo. Don’t tease.” You whine impatiently as he finally gets his hair tied back and he grabs the base of his cock to position himself at your wet folds.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.” He admits as he teases your slit with his cockhead soaking it in your wetness and you whine out in impatience.

“I don’t care about you lasting. Just fuck me already before I do it myself.” You beg as he finally slips his cockhead inside and in one smooth thrust he buries himself as deep inside of you as he can go.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wince at the stretch and Jungkook leans down to press soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

“Doing so well for me. Deep breaths now. So fucking tight around my cock. You are so wet for me. Fuck you feel heavenly.” He praises as he shallowly thrusts inside of you letting your body adjust to his girth and giving you all the time you need.

“Baby, are you already throbbing around me?” He teases as you open your eyes to playfully smack his arm and he shoots you his classic bunny smile.

“Sh-Shut up.” You plead as he begins to give you harder and deeper thrusts and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He feels so good inside of you. The way his cock drags against your walls has you crying out his name and when he starts to really thrust deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fu-Fuck Koo. Feel so good.” You cry out as he holds your legs steady and thrusts his cock inside you, arching his hips so he can hit your G-spot with every thrust.

“Wh-Why are you so good at this what the fuck?” You grit out as he chuckles above you and pushes your legs higher so he can hit deeper inside of you.

“Are you a-actually mad at me for being good at sex?” He taunts you as you decide to get back at him by squeezing his cock with your walls which makes him grunt and fuck you harder and faster.

“No, I’m m-mad we waited so long to do this. Fuck.”

Jungkook picks up speed on his thrusts all the while you are powerless on the bed as you take what he gives you. You claw at the bedspread and moan his name as you feel the coil of pleasure get tighter in your stomach and by the way Jungkook is thrusting you know he is close too.

“C-Close. Koo. Please. M-More.” You beg not even able to make a coherent sentence but lucky for you Jungkook knows what you mean as he brings a free hand down to rub at your clit and you cry out his name and grind down on his cock desperately trying to meet his thrusts and chase your ever building high.

Your whole body is on fire, everything is strung tight and you can feel your pussy start to spasm around his cock.

“C-Close.” You cry out in warning as he thrusts into you with such force it pushes you up the bed.

“Cum for me Y/N. Cum around my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me.” He demands and you lose it.

You arch up and close your eyes as you shout out his name and cum hard around his cock. You feel your walls clamp around him as Jungkok groans and throws his head back cumming hard into the condom as your walls keep his cock from thrusting inside of you.

Waves of pleasure roll off you both as Jungook releases your legs and slumps down over top of you keeping his cock inside until you are done riding out your high.

The only sounds in the room are both of your heavy breathing as he finally slips out and leaves to go get cleaned up.

You feel weightless as you lay on the bed and press a hand to your heart as you try to even out your breathing.

Jungkook comes back with water and a warm towel and takes his time opening your legs and cleaning you up as you stare at the ceiling in a post-sex haze.

He lays down beside you and you curl up into his chest as he strokes your hair and praises you for how well you did.

There is a welcome ache between your legs from how roughly he fucked you but you find you don’t mind too much as he wraps his arms around you caging you against his chest.

“That was incredible.” He says as you finally open your eyes to look at him.

His hair was coming out of its bun and tendrils were falling in front of his eyes. You reach up to push them away and smile. He was so handsome.

“That was very incredible holy shit we shouldn’t have waited so long.” You say as you both hear a noise outside and look up to see the sky had grown dark and a heavy rain was coming down.

“Oh shit.” You giggle as you both sit up and stare at the rainstorm outside.

“Guess no beach day for us.” He says smoothing down your hair as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“How about a movie day instead? I still brought snacks and drinks.” You say as he nods and carries you off the bed to the living room and you giggle the entire way.

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[josephquinnswhore]

disarmed - joel miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve been travelling with Joel for months, harbouring feelings for one another. Tommy helps the two of them realise how they feel.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, mentioned a few times that joel is still grieving Sarah, jealousy, possession, age gap. Joel is in his forties and reader mid-twenties. Post outbreak fic. Reader had some dirty thoughts about joel.

Note: I’ve been awol for three months. Hello friends!! @katiexpunk Part two > testament to you.

"Ain’t gonna give up on me are ya?"

Joel calls out, checking over his shoulder to see if you're still behind him. You two have been travelling for hours, with the crunch of your boots against the snow that began to fall on the previous evening—the first official day of winter. They needed to reach Jackson before a mound of snow covered the area, or otherwise they would never know how long they would be there in this endless stretch of open space. With the possibilities of being stuck in a snowstorm, it dawned on them; the pressure to get to their destination.

Joel's crooked, uneven, scowling facade did nothing to keep you out or to halt your innate desire to preserve yourself by desperately attempting to make a connection with him, but for some reason, you had managed to accomplish what no one else could.

Make him feel affection, which of course, came with the pure unbridled fear at the thought of something happening to you. A fear he had not felt since..

“Not long to go now,” he murmurs, trying not to think about his past, his voice softening as he waits for you to catch up, he can see you are making the effort to keep up, your legs picking up their stride in an attempt to match his pace. Even so, at this rate they wouldn’t make it to Jackson before nightfall.

The weary look you give does nothing to comfort him either, internally, he cant stop any thought about you, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling, other than the pure exhaustion he could feel radiating from your pained expression and lame movements.

They were nearly at Jackson, to Tommy, after months of travelling and struggling for food, fighting against raiders and infected, Joel had made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to get you to Jackson. They had to make it today, before the sun fell, they were struggling for rations, between them, they had a can of baked beans left, two decades old and barely edible, it's clear to Joel that you’re losing hope.

“I know, not long, right?” You manage to reply after a few moments of thinking to yourself. The two of you had been surviving on scraps for weeks, you couldn't remember what it was like to eat a proper meal. For your stomach not to grumble and ache in hunger.

“When we get to Jackson they’ll have a bed for us, a real bed, probably a proper shower too, an’ food. Somethin’ for us to look forward to.” He glances your way, attempting to lift your spirits.

A crack of a smile stretches your lips, thinking about hot water, a real warm meal. “I don't remember the last time I had a real shower.”

“You’ll be able to finally wash that grease out of your hair too,” he mutters under his breath with a cheeky grin. He could only wonder how bad the two of them must smell at this point. Hes probably grown accustomed to the smell of his own putrid stench. A mix of grease, gunpowder, blood, dirt and body odour. You never complained though.

“Like you can talk, the stench coming from you is foul, old man.” A playful jest comes from you, one that makes joel smile, before feigning offence, he brings his hand to his chest as he scoffs. “Like you're any better.”

His lips turn into a genuine smile as the two of them share a light hearted moment, something that feels like it had been weeks since had happened – he can't help but admit to himself that.. it feels nice. That he enjoys seeing this side of you, that he could be the one to make you happy.

The playful smile on your face slowly slips into the same tight line it had been for weeks on end. The monotonous expression Joel had become so accustomed to.

“Whats on your mind? Somethin’ botherin’ you?” Joel asked, sensing that something was off with you.

“Hm? Oh, no I'm good, just get stuck in my head sometimes I guess.” You manage to excuse yourself.

He knew very well what that was like, he himself spent a lot of time stuck in his head, they were more alike than he had anticipated. “That’s alright, I understand.” He reassures her.

You can't help the way you feel something for him, noting the way his hazel eyes always softened when he looked at you, his voice soft. But the constant fear nagged you, about the age gap, he was in his forties, and you only in your mid twenties. Did he see you as a kid? Did he see you as a woman?

Joel always tried to remind himself that you weren't a little girl, even with the evident age gap between the two, he still saw you as a capable, beautiful woman. He couldn't deny the way he felt when he was the one to make you laugh, those beautiful eyes of yours and how expressive they were. He couldn't deny he felt something for you, which puzzled him, it was a feeling he thought he would never experience.

The snow begins to fall heavier, and with how long they had to go to Jackson, Joel knew it would be best if they stopped for the night, to try and find some shelter for them, for her. As if an otherworldly god hears their thoughts, a small cabin comes into the near distance. You hope wordlessly that Joel would offer to stop for the evening. If not, begrudgingly for a few hours, at least.

He motions for you to follow him, in the direction of the cabin. “That looks like a safe place to camp for the night, whaddya think?” To Joel, this was an easy decision, he was tired of seeing you shiver when you camped outside, clutching to the sleeping bag for a sliver of warmth, the thin material never did much to sooth your chattering teeth. He doesn't want you sleeping outside ever again, if he had any say over the matter.

“You think it’s safe?” Your eyes scan the area, it looks abandoned.

Joel nods as he cracks open the door, scowling as the door creaks open loudly. He leads the way inside the empty cabin, he does a quick scan of the place before he steps inside, out of the snow. Its a fraction warmer inside, something you can appreciate as you close the door behind you.

“Stay close.” He whispers, keeping an eye out, the cabin was clear after searching for a few minutes, it’s a small area, a broken lounge in the same living space as the kitchen. The floorboards in the corner are starting to rot due to a leak in the roof, some of the snow falling through to the inside of the cabin. “Looks like we're all good in here, I’ll look around and see what I can find, we’ll sleep here for the evenin’.”

You shrug off the heavy pack that had been clinging in the same sore spot for hours on end, shoulders aching dully as you roll them, reaching your hands back to massage the sore spots. Your fingers are cold and stiff as you unclip your sleeping bag from your pack, setting it up in the small kitchen area, away from the corner that has a small leak in the roof.

“This place ain't so bad, better than most places we been sleepin’.” Before Joel can relax, he eyes a bookcase, it's large enough to cover the front door, with one push it topples over, with a grunt, the bookshelf falls securely over the front door, keeping them safe inside.

You look around a little in the kitchen, seeing some old trinkets covered in a thick layer of dust, a windchime, it creates a beautiful twinkle as your fingers caress the cold material, clanging against each other. Going through the draws, you have a look at a faded image, picking it up to inspect it, your heart drops, the image depicts a young family, two parents and a small baby, all smiling into the camera, in this very kitchen where you stood now.

You can’t help but wonder how long ago they resided here. If they were still alive.

“Must’ve been a family’s cabin…” His eyes glance at the photo as he leans down to rummage through the cupboards, finding a few cans of veggies that had been left behind, he sets it down on the bench next to you. “We made out pretty good on food this time. Are you hungry?”

Shakily, you return the photo back to where you found it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“You okay?” He asks, sensing the uneasiness in your voice. He grabs the tin cans of food and skillfully pops the lids open with his knife, handing a can of food to her. He nods towards their sleeping bags and they both sit down on the floor, he can't ignore the ache in his back and knees as he stretches his legs out on the floor. He tried not to think about it, sitting here with you on the hardwood floors eating out of a two decade old can of veggies was nothing worth complaining about, compared to the hell you two had endured over the months.

They were together at least. They made it this far.

“Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't get easier, you know? Thinking about it. They had a baby.” Hesitantly, you start eating with Joel, who seems silent.

He eventually nods in agreement. “Not everyone makes it.” He speaks quietly, even after all this time, he still mourns, he's been reminded of his loss time and time again, the image of the family was no exception.

They eat in silence, and you set the empty can beside your sleeping bag, sighing as you snuggle into the little warmth it provides. “Try and get some rest, we’ll head out at first light.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

He watches you settle, a small grunt escapes him as he keeps his rifle close, he leans against the wall. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“I'm sorry about your daughter Joel.” You whisper, before sparing him a glance and rolling over away from him. Joel watched you, the words pierce him, memories of his daughter haunt him, but he can't blame you. “Yeah, me too.” He mutters under his breath.

Joel stays awake, he's too restless to sleep at the thought of Sarah, losing her, relieving the pain and anguish of twenty years without her. Yet, the pain was as palpable as it was the night it happened.

The sun rises, and Joel rolls his sleeping bag, clipping it onto his pack. He notices you stirring awake. “Mornin’.” He grumbles tiredly. He stretches his neck, a loud crunch fills the air. “We should get goin’. I want to get to Jackson before midday.” He groaned as he stood, his knees clicking into place, worn and aching, the cold didn't help.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and pack the sleeping bag up quickly, not wanting to make Joel wait, he seemed pretty restless. Joel shoves the bookshelf off the door, opening it and takes a weary step outside into the daylight. He couldn't wait to see Tommy, he couldn't stop thinking about a shower, and a decent meal. They had been surviving in the wilderness for so long, Joel wasn't sure what he would do being back in civilization.

You pause in the doorway, watching Joel walk outside, his worn boots crunching in the fresh snow. “Just.. just wait a sec.” You wearily call out to him, looking back inside the cabin.

“What is it?” Joel asked, stopping in his tracks, turning to look back at you, a confused look on his face. You take a few quickened steps back into the cabin, pulling the drawer out to find the photograph of the family, before rushing outside to meet Joel. “Someone should remember them.”

Joel looks between you and the cabin, wondering what on earth you were doing. “Whaddya mean?” He asked, his voice gruff and full of confusion. He stands there for what felt like forever, watching as you return with the faded photograph in your hand. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

You shove the photograph into the back pocket of your jeans. “Ready to go?”

Joel looks at you, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Yeah.” He motions for you to continue walking, he tries to push behind the thought of the family as they walk from the cabin. For some reason, there was a warmth in his chest, at your actions, something so miniscule could show the kind of person you were. Perhaps not all hope was lost with someone so compassionate like you left in the world.

It was relatively quiet between the two of you for the rest of the trip, only a few miles, the snowfall had come to a halt overnight, so the snow wasn't much of an obstacle, being so far away from any town, there were near to no infected, nor other people.

Finally, ahead, there it was. They had finally made it to Jackson, to Tommy.

“Shit. This is Jackson?” You ask in wonder, taking in the heavily fortified walls, the men patrolling on the walls with rifles. A haven.

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Joel felt himself finally relax, for the first time in months, even if only for a moment, they had made it. “C’mon, we can get inside before the snow starts comin’ down again.” He picks up his pace towards the gate.

“Are you sure they'll let us in?” You knew Tommy was here, but the anxiety of being turned away was palpable. Joel glances back, reassuring you with a small smile. “Dont worry darlin’, Tommy knows we’re comin’.”

The gates open, and the hinges whine in protest.

“Joel, you ugly bastard is it really you?” A southern voice calls out, as the gate opens, and you watch as a man embraces Joel, similar in looks, if anything, less grey hair. “The hell took you so long?” The man asked, a joyous tone in his voice as he embraced Joel.

“Yeah, were not easy but we made it.” Joel huffed out a laugh. Tommy waves his hand, a brief gesture for the pair to follow him inside. Tommy looks over Joel’s shoulder as they walk. “Who’s this?”

You stand behind Joel, a meek smile on your lips as you introduce yourself. Tommy smirks at Joel. Joel's face reddened, his younger brother’s stare made him heat up.

“Just get us set up Tommy.” Joel muttered, avoiding the amused gaze from his brother. Tommy’s wolfish grin doesn't slip. “Sure thing, follow me.”

The odd interaction does not go missed as you watch the pair, following them to a house that Tommy had organised specifically for Joel. Tommy lets them into the house to look around and Joel speaks up. “We've been out in the wild for a long while, and we're happy to finally be able to settle down for a bit.” Joel explains, looking at Tommy.

“I can imagine. Well, i'll leave ya alone to settle in for now. Were havin’ a get together later tonight at the hall, you should come. It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from each other for a bit.” Tommy jests.

You look between the two men, confused. “So where am I going to be staying?” You knew that Joel would probably want to be away from you, now that he had done his part in bringing you here safely.

Joel's head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a moment. “With me.” He said, a little too quickly. “You'll be staying with me, here.” Joel’s eyes dart back to Tommy as if he was warning him against some smart arsed response. He looked a little embarrassed.

It didn't take an idiot to notice the glance you and Joel shared. Tommy smiled ear to ear as he watched the interaction between you two. “Alright.. Well you two can get settled here. Holler at me if you need anything, alright?”

As Joel nods, Tommy steps outside the house, leaving the pair alone again. Setting your pack down, you admire the house. “Nice place..”

Joel hums, nodding in agreement, setting his pack down next to your own. “Its alot nicer than where we've been campin’. And there's electricity.” Looking at the light Tommy had flickered on when he walked in.

“You mean we can shower?” Joel grins in amusement at your sudden excitement. “Hot water and all princess, why don't you go on and have the first shower?” The bathroom itself was simple, but it felt surreal to have electricity and running water.

“Are you sure?” Joel nods, “I can wait, its all yours.”

Joel closes the bathroom door behind you, and explores the bedroom, ruffling through the closet as he decides what to wear to this stupid get together tonight.

The hot water feels incredible, soothing the aches in your body, as you lather the vanilla scented soap, spreading the suds to wash the grime off your body. The colour of the water that runs down the drain is appalling, dark brown from grease and dirt. The shampoo is fruity, and a divine smelling scent you hadn't ever smelt in your lifetime. Lathering the clear concoction, you take your time to scrub the grease and disgusting things that stick to your strands of hair and scalp.

Its almost painful to shut the water off, but you know that Joel deserves to experience the hot water too, stepping out, you run your hand over the fogged up mirror, and hardly recognise yourself.

You slip on the clothes that had been provided for you, dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, tight fitting brown shirt. It accentuates your body shape wonderfully.

You look like a brand new woman as you emerge into the bedroom seeing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Joel looks up at you, his eyes widening as he takes in your form. You were even more beautiful than before, you looked radiant. He quickly stood, clearing his throat and he tried to keep his composure. “Hey darlin’.” He manages to utter out, his voice a little low.

Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze, hazel eyes roaming your body. “You gonna have a shower before we go?”

Joel glances down at himself, he now looked completely filthy compared to her, realisation sinking in.

“Y-yeah I think I will.. I can wash up in a minute.” As he looks back up at you, he notices your lingering gaze on him.

Were you checking him out too?

The tension is broken as Joel walks to the bathroom, taking his turn for the shower. Your mind wonders as the water runs, wondering what Joel looks like under all those clothes, if the hairs on his chest travel all the way down his torso, wondering if his tanned skin is the same delicious colour all over. A soft groan echos through the bathroom, gartering your attention, ears perking at the wonderfully intimate noise.

Something inside of you tingles in excitement at the thought, it's a hard thought to squash as you put your boots on. Joel's hair was damp, slicked back, the greying strands on his temple looked lighter than ever. The green and red flannel shirt hugged his torso and arms snugly, the jeans looked a size too small, clinging to his thick muscular thighs. His hazel eyes stared down at you as you looked him over, admiring him, he cant quite read the expression on your face.

Now it was your turn to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Ready to go?” Joel was still trying to come out of his haze as he stared at you, still trying to process the way you were checking him out. “Y-yeah…” He muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, let's.. Let's go..”

The hall is set up nicely, small bulbs hang from the ceiling emit a full yellow hue, there's an old record player, with vinyls underneath the bench it’s set up on, the melody of an old song echos through the hall as they walk in together, they gain some looks, from people dancing, young and old. Joel is brought into another hug by Tommy as he greets them. “Hey, look at you!” Tommy grinned. “You clean up nice.”

You silently agree, Joel looked as handsome as ever.

Joel's face runs hot as he hears Tommy’s tease, turning a rosy pink across his cheeks. He quickly brushed it off, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Shut it, Tommy…” Joel muttered. Tommy grinned as he watched his brother's reaction, his eyes then shifting to you. “And you… look beautiful tonight.”

Joel watches your reaction to his brother's compliment, seeing you squirm a little. “Thanks Tommy. So… what exactly is this?”

Tommys grin remained as he motioned for you both to follow. “It's a get together, we do them to blow off a little bit of steam every once in a while, you know how it is.” Joel grunts in annoyance, not enthralled by the idea of being social, nor in the judgemental gaze of the community folk.

Your eyes follow the couples as they dance to the music. A sense of yearning overcomes you, wishing it were you and Joel dancing so intimately. It's something Tommy notices.

“What, you want to dance, girl?” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. Joel's eyes widened as he tried to get his attention. “Tommy…” He muttered in warning, his voice a low grumble.

You didn't decline tommys suggestion. “You offerin’?” Perhaps, if anything, you would be lucky enough to make Joel jealous.

Tommy nods, taking you by the hand as he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, away from Joel. “Of course.”

Joel could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to become jealous at the sight of his brother dancing with you.

You and Tommy dance, occasionally sneaking glances at Joel, who still looked unimpressed by the situation. Tommy laughs whenever he sees Joel’s scowling face, enjoying winding his brother up. Tommy took his turn to tease you. “So… what's it like travelling with my grumpy ass brother?”

“He's not grumpy with me.” You answer simply. This, Tommy raises a brow at. “Oh really?” He glanced over her shoulder at his brother, who was now glowering at the pair. “Looks real grumpy to me..” He teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“Only cause you're pickin’ on him.” You counter.

“You're probably right.” It wasn't uncommon for Tommy to tease his older brother like this, the more he saw how annoyed Joel was becoming, the more he wanted to keep this up.

“I like him, alot.” You murmur between the two of you. Tommy’s teasing expression dies down, shifting to an expression of empathy. He was quiet in thought for a moment before he spoke. “I can tell…” he glances at joel. “He's got it bad for you too.”

“Thats a lie if I’ve ever heard it, Tommy Miller.” You scoff.

Tommy’s brows furrowed a little as he scoffs as your disbelief.”You can't seriously tell me you're that naive, it's obvious he likes you, girl.” Joel's gaze darkens, eyes fixated on them from across the hall.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Have you seen the look on his face? He's got this…” Tommy gestured to his own face. “...stupid look on his face since we've been dancin’. And he's lookin’ like hes seconds away from murderin’ me.”

You shrug. “He's just protective of me.”

“And how do you two interact?” Tommy asked. “Like, he dont seem too fond of me touchin’ you.” Joel's eyes flicker down to the way his younger brother's hand held your waist.

“I’m guessin’ you got some kind of plan, then, to prove me wrong?”

Tommy’s face lit up when you say this. “What do you think, girl? Are you up for it?”

A groan leaves your lips. “What’re you thinkin’?”

Tommy smirks, gently and suddenly twirls you, bringing you flush to his chest, the action makes Joel scowl. “We’re gonna piss him off just enough for him to come over. Sound good?”

You don’t miss Joel's reaction, maybe it did mean something..

“Okay, let's see what you got.”

Tommy grins, he pulls you close to him, dipping his head down to your ear, whispering. “You tell me if he gets too annoyed for yer likin’... I don’t wanna cross no boundaries.”

Tommy is an impressive dancer, you admit, and as nice as it is to be spun around the dance floor, your mind wonders what it would be like to dance with Joel, how he would hold you, where he would place his hands, how firm his grip would be.

Tommy dips you, making sure to keep a tight grip around your waist, and his body as close to yours as he could manage without dropping you, Tommy leans in, his nose close to yours. “Bit dramatic don't you think?” You mutter, eyeing tommy. There was a chance Joel would kill Tommy for this, and Tommy leans in, as if he was intent on kissing you.

That was it for Joel, he reached his breaking point, watching as his younger brother's actions grew more bold and more suggestive. As soon as he saw how close you two were, how intimate that moment looked, he pushed his way through the dancefloor, barging people that were dancing to get to them. Tommy’s plan seemed to work, getting the reactive reaction out of Joel, your eyes widened as Tommy straightens you up, the older Miller brother approached them.

“Now you've done it.” You mumble.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Tommy teases. Before he could say anything else.. Joel yanks Tommy’s shoulder, separating him from you.

Joel lets out a low growl, pushing Tommy further away from you. “What’re you tryna pull, Tommy?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tommy protests, shrugging his shoulder out of Joel's grasp. “I’m not pullin’ nothin’. I was dancin’ with the girl, is that a crime?” Joel grits his teeth together, trying to stop himself from punching his own brother.

“He wasn't doing anything Joel.” You murmur softly, trying to calm the man down, but it seems to only agitate Joel that you seemed to defend Tommy’s actions.

His nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You're takin’ his side then?”

“Hey, come on, it ain't like that.”

His irritation grows, did you really think this was okay? That this was just friendly dancing? “You really think he was just dancin’?” He mocked.

Your brows furrow as you sense Joel’s rising irritation towards you, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Yes, that's exactly what I think.”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest, this was not going the way he wanted. “He was all up on you and you think this is innocent? You’re more naive than I thought.” He sneers, a low grumble leaving his lips.

It hurts, hearing Joel talk to you like this, and you shove past them before he can see the tears welling in your eyes. Tommy stops Joel from chasing after you.

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, turning to look at him. “Get outta the way, Tommy.”

“She likes you, Joel.” Tommy said, his hand not leaving his older brother's chest, needing him to listen.

Joel rolls his eyes, not believing that statement for a moment. “No, she doesn’t. She was just humouring you.” He tries to push past Tommy again.

“It was my idea joel. I thought if I turned up the heat a little you'd show her you're sweet on her.”

“...what?” Joel's face flushed pink hearing that. “You.. you were just trying to…” When he realised that this little stunt was all an attempt to show that they liked each other, it surprised him, was it so obvious?

“You know I wouldn't dream of makin’ a move on yer girl. Go on now, get her and tell her how you feel before she runs off on ya.”

Joel stares at his brother for a moment as his words sank in. Once it did, he nodded, understanding now that this was an attempt to try and make Joel admit his feelings for you. He didn't say another word as he turned out of the hall, rushing back to the home where he knew you would be.

You felt humiliated by the entire thing, by Joel being angry at you, he had never looked at you with that look of unbridled anger. It was always directed towards other people, the ones that had tried to hurt you. Never you.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy, easily recognisable to you. As he makes his way to you, where you’re packing your things into your pack, tears streaming down your swollen cheeks.

He calls your name, and you don’t respond, shoving things angrily into your pack, you know he’s at the bedroom door, watching you.

His heart sinks as he watches you, he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder, in an attempt to stop you. “Stop.” He muttered softly. “Stop packin’ yer things.”

When you don’t listen, Joel takes the pack from your hand and tosses it across the room, your possessions all spilling out into the wooden floor. “What the hell is your problem?” You snap.

“Would you just stop it?” He exclaims, frustration evident in his tone. He grabs your arm, firmly enough to garner your attention. Spinning you to look at him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“You humiliated me!” You quip, voice trembling.

He exhaled, the warmth of his breath fans on your cheeks. “Listen..” he muttered. “Whatever you thought happened, it was the complete opposite. Tommy told me the whole plan, he was.. tryin’ to make me admit somethin’ to myself.. to you.”

Your cheeks warm as you realise Tommy snitched. “..oh.”

His large hands reach out to cup your face, turning your face upright, so your gaze would meet his own. “I care about you a lot…” he spoke after a moment, his expression softening. “I know I’m not real good at showin’ it, but I really..”

“I really do like you, darlin’.”

You sputter a response. “Tommy.. was right?”

Joel nods, his expression growing bashful as he tries to hide his embarrassment with a small snort. “Yeah.. stupid bastard was right.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to stumble over his words. “Have done since I saved ya all them months ago.” He confessed.

His hand runs through his hair again, something you’ve picked up as an anxious tick of his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was a question Joel hadn’t really thought of himself, until now. “It’s hard for me to be vulnerable..” he admits. “I’m just… not really like that.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time he had trouble opening up about his feelings, but he wanted you to understand that he wanted to try, with you.

“Especially with.. the way the world is now.. I thought I shouldn’t get myself tied up in somethin’ that could just get me hurt later.”

The words that went unspoken, you understood. He was afraid of losing you. And suddenly, her eyes softened. “What changed? Seein’ me with Tommy?”

It was an embarrassing truth, one that he had to face. “Yeah..” he agreed, glancing away from you a moment. “It felt like someone was just punchin’ me in the guts. Seein’ you dancin’ with him I felt..” he groans. “Jealous.”

Unintentionally, you bat your lashes at him. “I was so convinced you wouldn’t like me, I made such a fool of myself.”

His brows scrunch together as he realises how his actions made you feel. He gently takes your face in his large hands, his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing motion.

“Hey, you didn’t do any of that…” he murmured. “If anything I shoulda told ya ages ago.”

With his reassurance, you wrap your arms around his midsection, fisting the soft material of his flannel on his back. He doesn’t resist, although he relaxes from his tense stance, bringing his own arms around you. “How about we start over an’ I’ll do this proper?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at him. “Proper?”

He couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, your words make his heart flutter. “Y’know.. with you as my girl…” he murmurs nervously. “If.. if you’d like that?”

“I would like that.” You accept without hesitation, your voice soft as Joel leans his chin on your head, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t ever try an’ run off again. I’ll hog tie ya to the bed if I have ta.” A soft laugh leaves your lips at his threat, and you raise a brow.

“That right? Maybe I’ll take off one day, just to test you.” Joel’s eyebrows raise, a daring look in his eyes, arms tightening around you as he lifts you off the ground effortlessly, tossing you onto the plush bed.

“Yer mine now sweetheart, ain’t letting you go, ever.” He murmurs against your neck, hovering over you, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin of your temple.

“Mine till the day I die.” He growled possessively, the tender touch was a concise movement, one that contradicted his possession.

Somehow, you had disarmed him. And from now on, Joel wasn’t going to fight it.

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 3 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Nesta is even more delusional than Y/n. Azriel finally knows his woman is attracted to him.

Warnings: smutty fantasies, delusional bestie Nesta, Azriel right after a shower, Azriel in ONLY a towel, Azriel's tattoos, delusional Azriel.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel had no idea what he was thinking when he let Y/n in his apartment. The same place he’d overanalysed to see where all he could fuck her. 

That’s right. 

He wasn’t thinking at all. 

Because he opened the door, saw her, and voila~ she was inside. 

She moved towards the kitchen and began hunting for plates. Azriel simply watched her as she made herself at home and owned the kitchen. 

Yes.

She did. 

Y/n owned the kitchen, the apartment, and she owned him. 

Azriel appreciated the domesticity for a moment before walking towards her to help. He picked out a bottle of wine and the glasses. 

When they finally sat down, a silence washed over. Azriel was getting the feeling that this was not a comfortable silence. “What happened?” 

“I should’ve at least texted you.” So that’s why she was gloomy. 

“Your classes begin tomorrow. You need to study.” He remembered that Y/n took academics seriously. 

“But I kept on remembering you and I promised myself I’d text or call after finishing one topic and then I read more papers and got carried away and now, it’s been three days.” She slowly quietened and started playing with her fork. 

“We’re going to dine and chat.” He deftly served the lasagna for both of them. “There’s nothing wrong here. Nothing weird or awkward. Nothing to worry about.” 

Azriel watched her nod at him hesitantly. She was still worried. 

“How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?” He asked, folding his arms and letting them rest on the table as he leaned forward to look at her closely. 

This woman, this wonderful woman, fretting because she didn’t contact him. She didn’t need to know that he already knew what was going on. That she was so immersed in studying that she did not have any proper meals. 

He also knew that she had rushed off to the supermarket earlier this evening and spent a lot of time in the kitchen. 

What he didn’t know was that all of it was for him. 

That information warmed him in an unexpected manner. 

“Hey.” He rose and reached her. Azriel turned her chair and kneeled before her. “It’s all right.” 

“It’s just, you’re so good to me and. . . I didn’t even call or text and now, you’re still. . . you’re still so good to me.”

Good? 

That wouldn’t do.

He was supposed to be the best for her. 

Good sounded like mediocrity in his own head but the word sounded like an achievement when she said it. 

Was this what she thought about him?

“It’s all right. We’re fine. You’re here. I’m here. We’re okay.” He patted her head gently. 

Azriel stood up, pulled another chair next to her, and readied a bite for her but Y/n shook her head. “I made it for you. You should eat first.”

Something in his head had just short circuited. 

He had just been hit with the realisation that she had cooked for him but to hear her say it was euphoric. 

“You’ll eat after I take a bite?” She nodded instantly so he took a bite. 

It wasn’t made by a chef who considered cooking to be an art for the world to enjoy. 

It was made by someone who wanted to cook only for him and not for the world. 

A taste prepared to be enjoyed within the privacy and security of the people that would comprise his home. 

“Thank you.” His voice was raw and tinged with much more emotion than he’d expected. 

This moment with her, her cooking, and him was simply so overwhelming. 

“You’ve done so well.” Y/n smiled brightly and a part of Azriel felt like he had truly achieved something in life. To make this woman happy and safe. 

This woman, warm as a blanket in early winter mornings, beautiful in the face of her entire life—he wanted his opportunity to cherish her. And he’d take it. He could be patient. 

Azriel did not ever remember doing anything good enough to deserve this woman’s presence in his life. But she was here and he’d keep her by his side. 

They dined sitting next to each other. And Azriel was acutely aware of everything she did. Every time those breasts heaved as she breathed. Those lips with a bit of cheese at the corner. 

He turned to his own plate, nearly scarfing down the meal lest he have another inappropriate thought. But the sight of his own fork reminded him of her mouth around her own fork. 

Y/n would look lovely on her knees and even lovelier with his cock inside that mouth. He’d wrap her perfect hair around his fist and thrust inside her mouth. And then he’d-

“Azriel.” She was sitting right next to him, and the height difference was enough for him to think about leaning in. 

That stupid bit of cheese was still by the corner of her lip and Azriel could nearly see how she’d look after he’d come in her mouth. 

“Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t. 

He wanted that mouth. 

On his lips, on his chest, on his cock. 

“Yes.” A fucking lie. He was not okay knowing that the woman he was fantasising about was right next to him, eating a meal, thinking that this was just a neighbourly interaction. 

Azriel definitely didn’t have any neighbourly intentions towards Y/n unless you could count wanting to fuck her against her front door as one of those. 

Conversation continued as she told him about her classes, her education so far, and more things he’d already read in her report but with an addition of her own feelings towards them. 

She was not eager to indulge in her private life but she was very proud to talk about Nesta, her best friend since childhood. He heard a few funny moments from her past and bits and pieces about her family. 

At some point, he’d begun speaking. It was not just about being comfortable with her but also about wanting to tell her, and knowing that she would now know something about him. So he told her about his friends, his education, and a few things about his everyday life. 

When it was nearly eleven, he reminded her that she had classes from tomorrow. Azriel could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes as Y/n made a move to leave. 

He really wanted to kiss her. Tell her that she’d cooked really well. That he was thankful for her efforts. 

And instead of escorting her to the door, he wanted to take her to the bedroom where he’d undress her and kiss every inch of her. 

He couldn’t kiss her but there was something else he could do. 

And that’s how Azriel found himself watching baking videos as he retired to bed instead of taking a while to masturbate to his fantasies of Y/n.

****

Y/n was in a good mood after last night’s dinner but she felt guilty for not contacting Azriel. Her neighbour was so nice, so kind. He’d helped her far more than neighbours ever did and she’d just . . . forgotten him while she studied. 

She was well-prepared for her classes, met a few new people, toured the campus library, and returned to her apartment. 

She immediately FaceTimed Nesta. 

“Wait, let me just set this.” Nesta moved to the kitchen in her own shared apartment and placed the phone so that she could cook while they talked. Y/n had already done the same. “Now, before you spill, I have some news. Remember your ex?”

“Very difficult to forget his impact in my life.”

“Lots of trauma and insecurity, I know.” Nesta knew how condescending that creature had been to Y/n, always belittling her whenever she did something or was about to do something herself. And then he’d be a little hypocrite by saying that he’d support her choices while also routinely telling her to stop using her brain. “He got roped into a case of tax fraud and he got fired but he’s still a party to the case.”

Y/n remained silent but her wide eyes were enough for Nesta to understand that she’d been shocked. Nesta waited in front of the screen patiently. “Well. . . fuck him.”

“That’s my girl!” Nesta cheered. “Also, there’s a rumour floating among the alumni that he made some powerful enemies so he’s laying low or he’s underground or on the run or whatever terminology they use for people like that but since this guy is the worthless lowlife that hurt you, I’d prefer to say he’s in the sewer.”

“Hopefully, he’ll drown in the sewage.”

“Moving on, quite literally, to better things in life. Exhibit A: your hot neighbour. Have you fucked?”

“No. And I don’t think we will.” She had a good talk with him last night, absorbing his every word like a sponge but she couldn’t help but feel that he was not attracted to her in the way she was towards him. 

“Why not? He’s hot. You’re hot. It only makes sense that you two fuck.” 

Y/n looked at the screen, unimpressed. “I think he sees me as a sister.”

“Then go! Do incest! What are you waiting for?” Nesta waved her hands.

“We’re not related.” 

“Then do the step-sibling incest thing. We’ve already watched My Fault. It’s bound to be hot.” Nesta deadpanned. 

My Fault was a hot, forbidden romance. Now, that was another fantasy. 

“Wait. Why do you think he sees you as a sister?” Nesta came to the screen and started eating an apple. 

“Because he patted my head last night.” Y/n sighed. “It felt very sibling-like.” She began peeling the onions. 

“What happened last night?” Nesta was now curious. 

“I forgot to contact him for three days so I made lasagna as an apology.”

“Wait a fucking second.” Here we go. “You have that hot furnace as your neighbour and you forgot him?” Nesta sounded very much offended on Azriel’s behalf. “Are you drugged or something?” She opened a container and closed it. She kept it back and took out another container.

“We enjoyed dinner and dessert and conversations but I almost cried before we started.”

“Darling, men have to be dealt with very tactfully.” Nesta placed a bowl in front of her phone and began peeling potatoes. “If they see your emotional baggage, it’ll only be a big turn-off even when you only want a fling. For example, in my gym, there’s a trainor-”

“You joined a gym?” Y/n interrupted. “Why am I hearing about this now?”

“I have too much free time now that you’re not here so I joined a gym.” Nesta glared at Y/n and the latter kept quiet. “There’s a hot trainor and I know he wants to fuck me. But what am I doing? I’m doing what every reasonable, prudent woman would do. I’m ignoring him.”

“That’s probably not how you get laid.”

“I’m not trying to get laid. I’m trying to get railed. Understand the difference.” Nesta pointed her knife at the screen. 

“Laid is a romantic thing. Laid is when you lose your virginity. Laid is for sweet love making.” Nesta sounded a little disgusted while explaining ‘laid’ before her tone changed and she began her passionate explanation about what ‘railed’ meant. 

“Railed is for fucking against any surface because you can’t wait. It’s for throwing away your clothes and letting all the lust take over. Touching is for laid, groping is for railed. Do you understand?” Nesta waved her knife and Y/m dutifully nodded. 

“Maintain enough distance to let the sexual tension brew like a stew. But not too much distance to make him uninterested. And then soon, Cassian will fuck me like his life depends on it.” Nesta sounded gleeful as she revealed her plan. 

Y/n knew that Nesta was only going to fuck this trainor because she never did serious relationships. Y/n had been in one serious relationship which blew up on her face. And since then, it was unbearable to think of going for romance. “Cassian is your trainor’s name?”

“Nice name to moan, don’t you think?”

“Does he know you think that?” She began cutting the onions. Y/n thought that name sounded familiar. 

“Absolutely not. It’s only been two days. I’ll take some time. He’s already looking when I’m stretching and so now, I’ll do some specific warm ups that’ll make him realise that I’m a very, very flexible woman.”

“You bitch.” Y/n laughed as she stirred the vegetables. 

“I’m going to make him beg.” Nesta grinned evilly. “Enough about him. How do we get you to commit incest?”

“Did I tell you he’s older?”

“How old?”

“He’ll turn twenty nine in a few days.”

“You just turned twenty four. Oh, he’ll love it when you call him daddy.” Nesta smirked.

“I think I want to call him sir.” Y/n laughed. 

“Wait. That’s a good idea.”

“What?”

“Grocery shopping. All right? Show some cleavage. Stand next to him. Look up at him with the most innocent look. Okay? So innocent and holy that he should think you’re on the list of innocent people right after Jesus. And then say, ‘yes, sir’. Imagine the sex. He won’t even wait to take you to the bedroom.”

“I’m not really sure.” Y/n was hesitant. What if she ruined whatever friendship she had with him? 

The doorbell rang once. “Wait a sec. Nes, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Y/n washed her hands quickly, wiped them on a towel, and went to answer the door. 

Azriel stood there, looking mindnumbingly sexy in a shirt with the first couple of buttons not. . . his chest. . .  tattoos and. .  . Y/n took a step back and nearly fell. 

Azriel’s arm snaked around her waist as he easily caught her and helped her stand up. 

“I received your parcel by mistake.” He whispered near her ear. 

“Thank you.” She probably squeaked. His hand was still on her waist and her eyes were shut tightly. 

“Y/n?” His voice was too deep, too dark, too bedroom-like. “Why are you hot?” 

“What?” Her voice was a mere whisper. 

“Open your eyes, Y/n.” Why was this man saying her name so much? “You feel feverish.” At some point, the back of his hand was pressed against her forehead. 

“I’m not. I’m fine.” She hurriedly explained. “Thank you for the parcel.” 

Azriel smiled beautifully at her. “I’ll see you around.” 

His hands left her waist and he reached his own door. Y/n watched as he entered his apartment, waved at her before closing the door. 

She closed her own door and ran to the kitchen to tell Nesta all about it.

**** 

When Y/n had been exploring during her first day of classes, Azriel easily infiltrated her house (he had a spare key, what do you think he bought the building for?) and set a few bugs to help him eavesdrop. 

Was it a coincidence that he made his appearance while Y/n was on a video call with her best friend, discussing and debating about fucking him?  

Absolutely not. 

He knew that Y/n didn’t like wearing her airpods unless it was necessary so her video calls were always  on speaker phone. He’d heard every bit of what both women said. 

The only thing that was a coincidence was that he was just about to ring the doorbell when the delivery man had appeared. He signed her parcel, claiming to be her boyfriend (which he would be) and when the delivery boy had left, he finally proceeded. 

Now that he knew for a fact that she was sexually attracted to him, he had to only seduce her. To coax her desires before revealing that he was always ready to fuck her. 

As for how he’d marry her, that was a little further away but he was confident now. 

If she ever called him sir, he knew he’d crack and explode. Y/n wouldn’t even have to do much and he’d fuck her ever so thoroughly. 

So he waited. 

He got his work done. A few meetings. Calls. Learned how to bake. 

He did get his chance to talk to her or go grocery shopping with her but she did not call him sir. 

The electricity was beginning to crackle between them when he spotted her looking at his forearms often. He’d wear henleys, roll up his sleeves, and watch as she drooled over while pretending he didn’t realise. 

How adorable was she as she checked him out not so discreetly. 

And how adorable would she be, begging and crying for him to stop. 

****

Azriel had finally perfected baking a cheesecake and it was kept for cooling. A few more hours and he could bring it over to Y/n. 

The doorbell rang and Azriel cursed. If there was someone other than Y/n on the other side, he’d throw them down the stairs. 

This was a bit inconvenient since he’d just finished showering. He draped a towel around his hips and took another one to begin with his hair as he headed for the door.

It seemed that there would be no deaths since Y/n was waiting for him. But the moment she saw him, her eyes widened and she looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

Why?

She looked damn good in that grey sweater and black jeans. Winter fashion suited Y/n. Sweaters were gentle on her curves, her legs were. . . 

Yes. 

Those were the legs he wanted around his waist. Minus the jeans, of course. 

She looked so fucking good but there was only one problem when she went out with him.

He couldn’t show her off as his wife.

As stated in the previous chapter, a lot of things would be sorted if he married Y/n. 

Azriel was ready to brood now that the reality of not being married to her slapped him. 

But then why was she so shocked when she was the one who looked like she was out to seduce him by existing? 

Oh.

He was in a towel.

And with his chest on display. 

He remembered that tattoos were an attraction for women and he had loads of them. On his fingers, hands, arms and chest. 

Was she attracted?

“Y/n?” He let the towel for his hair hang around his neck. 

“Huh?” She then looked at his face because she’d been staring at his chest for so long. 

How cute. 

She was attracted.

Did she know that all this was hers? 

This chest. These hands. These legs. And this cock. 

Everything was hers. 

Honestly speaking, he’d fuck her if she asked. 

“Come in.” He opened the door wider.

“You have tattoos.” She still seemed to be in a daze. 

He really had to put in effort to not smirk at her flustered state. 

Would she like the tattoos under the towel?

“Yes, I have tattoos. Come inside, Y/n.” He gently ushered her in before realising that he just brought in his woman inside the apartment. His woman who was definitely attracted to him and even more so, more that she’d seen him half naked. 

“Yeah. Um. . I was going to buy vegetables. Just wanted to see if you’d like to come with me or if you wanted me to get something.” She was looking at the wall now. 

What was this woman even thinking? 

That he’d ever refuse her? 

Hah! What nonsense.

Why was he even here in this country, in this apartment, if not for her?

Azriel walked over, tilted her chin with a hand, and met her gaze looking as oblivious as he could. “Is there a reason why you’re not looking at me?” 

Fuck it. He wanted her to look at her. What did he even look this good for if she was not looking at him?

“I thought. . Maybe you’d be uncomfortable if I looked at you. Some people don’t. . they don’t like that and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me.” 

“You have my permission to look.” To touch. To kiss. To suck. To fuck. She had all permissions since day one. 

“Vegetables?” She averted her gaze. 

Azriel restrained the urge to smirk. 

“Give me ten minutes.” He returned to his room, dried himself, dressed up, and returned to Y/n.

“Ready?” He asked as he wrote his watch. 

“You haven’t dried your hair.” 

“I used the towel.”

“It’s evening, Az. You’ll catch a cold. Where’s your hair dryer?” There it was. There was the confident Y/n.

“Don’t have one.” He lied so easily. He wanted to see what she’d do. 

She marched over to the door and opened it. “Well. Come on. Lock up. You’re using my hair dryer. Only then will you come with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. Azriel loved it when she bossed him around. This side of her rarely revealed itself. 

Y/n froze and then turned away to unlock her door. And Azriel did as he’d been told.

****

Has anyone seen Azriel half naked? Ever? 

In a towel? Bare chested? 

Droplets on that golden skin? 

Tattoos? Fucking tattoos? 

Wet hair? 

The wet dream? 

How in fuck had she not fainted? 

And why did she think she was being sensible by inviting him to her apartment? 

To dry his hair?

Well, he did need his hair to be dried to avoid a cold. 

She could keep telling herself that. 

And what the fuck was that chin raising movement he did? 

In that instant, she could think of nothing but his she wanted to be laid down on the wooden coffee table and fucked like they were all that mattered. 

A towel. 

A towel. 

A towel with a tattoo that it partially concealed. 

He had a tattoo there. 

She wanted to see that tattoo. 

And his cock. 

She wanted to kneel before him.

Did anybody in the entire godsfucking universe bothered to take pity on her sanity and tell her that this man was not just sexy but fictional sexy? 

No. 

Her sanity had evaporated at some point.

Because her knees were already weakening as soon as she laid eyes on him. 

And he’d raised her chin looking like a sex god from a dark romance novel. 

Y/n needed to kneel and bend and spread for him all at once. 

Y/n: Save me. 

Nesta: What happened?

Y/n: I saw him shirtless. In a towel. Only a towel. My sanity is deceased. And I’m so fucking horny. 

Nesta: Send pics ;)

Y/n: He has tattoos all over. I saw one of them which was partially covered by that  towel. It’s down there.  

Nesta: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Y/n: He has a back.

Nesta: Everyone has a back.

Y/n: Wide shouldered, golden, tattooed back, with droplets. 

Nesta: Oh. Ohhhhhh. Ohhooohhoooooooo. You lucky bitch, you’re going to get railed. Scratch that back. Mark him well.

Y/n pocketed her phone before she got too delusional and brought the hairdryer. Azriel was sitting on her bed as instructed. She connected the appliance to the plug and gave it to him. 

He looked at her coyly with a stupid smirk before she sighed. “Fine.” 

Y/n switched on the dryer and dried his hair. She combed through with her fingers and Azriel looked more than happy to simply sit there. 

“You should do this if you’re going to wash your hair after lunchtime.” She wanted to sound stern but Y/n was busy thinking about grabbing his hair in other situations. 

“Uh huh.” He grinned at her like a cat. Y/n set the dryer down and fluffed down his hair herself. 

“All done.” 

He stood up and checked himself in the mirror. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now shall we get some vegetables?”

Y/n would have a heart attack at any time soon. She quickly texted Nesta, followed after him, locked the door and they left for shopping. 

Instead of heading towards the sidewalk, Azriel headed towards the line of cars parked on the side of the road. 

“Where are you going?” Y/n followed. She did not like how this man with his height and long legs just took two steps while she had to take four. She’d never really noticed before since he adjusted his pace to walk by her side. 

“My car is here. I had it sent over.” He then looked at her just before he opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Do you drive?”

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to drive?”

“It’s your car. I’m sure you don’t want a scratch.”

“I trust you.” He walked over and handed the keys to her. “You have a valid licence, right?”

“Azriel, you have to ask about the licence before you give someone your car keys.”

“But you said you drive.” This man had the audacity to look like a scolded child when, not more than twenty minutes ago, he looked like he could throw her around and fuck her all day, every day. 

At this point, Y/n needed an exorcism to help with her uncontrollable number of fantasies. 

The car was also huge enough to be fucked against. And she could bend over against the bonnet while he took her from behind but it was too cold at night for pants to be removed. 

“Y/n?” Azriel appeared in front of her like his existence hadn’t resulted in an unexpected number of filthy delusions that made her panic in his presence. “Ready to leave?”

“All right.”

And they entered the car. When they were settled and she started, Azriel began. “And if you want to go somewhere far just for the quiet, we can go now that we have a car.” 

“You love this car, don’t you?”

And Azriel went on a rant about how he’d purchased this one because of all that he fell in love with in this particular model. By the time he finished, they were already parked near the supermarket. 

Y/n removed her seatbelt and tapped his arm. “We’ve reached.” She smiled at him.

It was nice and fluffy to simply go on a drive and listen to him. 

****

It was so nice to just sit in the car. Azriel loved driving but he recently discovered he also loved sitting. And now that he was following Y/n with the shopping trolley, he felt even better. 

And all Azriel wanted to do was to embrace her from behind, kiss her cheek, and laugh with her at something stupid. 

It was simple and pleasant. To follow her with a trolley, to watch her frown at two containers of mayonnaise, to listen to her complain about how they should have separate section for panty liners and pads instead of putting them with baby diapers. 

She was a bossy woman, a side that revealed itself when they went grocery shopping. 

Gods, he wanted her to order him. To ride him and take charge. 

His grip on the trolley tightened. 

And just when he was beginning to control his thoughts, he saw the fire exit. The washrooms were built there. Nobody would see but he could simply hoist her away and fuck her there. 

The thrill of being in a public place did something else to him. 

He looked at Y/n and saw her waving at him with a container of something in her hand. He walked over to her and gave his suggestion on the chocolate spread. 

The only thing he hated in this routine of grocery shopping was when it ended and they went their separate ways. She’d go to her apartment and he’d go to his. And he hated that. He hated returning to a place where she wasn’t.

And for the first time, Azriel was not alone. He was lonely in the silence. 

****

Y/n knew she’d begun caring for her neighbour despite her attraction to him. That she’d started getting used to his presence in her life. 

It was only supposed to be sexual attraction but as hot as he was, he was also good to her. He cared for her and his every action proved it. 

She liked him.

She liked him. 

Oh god. 

She actually liked Azriel. 

Which sane woman wouldn’t? 

She didn’t care about other women. Other women could go drown in the sewer. 

What about her? 

This man was only supposed to be a one-time encounter from that club they went to for Feyre’s birthday party. 

And then he was at the airport. 

In the flight. In the same building. 

And now he was a part of her life.

And during that dinner when she'd brought him lasagna, when he asked her that question so seriously. “How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?”

Y/n had melted.

She looked at the apartment. This was just for a semester but Y/n loved this space solely because Azriel was next door. 

And at some point, she’d begun wishing he was here. 

She called Nesta and when her friend picked up the phone, she began crying. “I like him.” 

****

Taglist:

@fantanbietsson @angstylittleb1tch @fhgsvbnh @olive-main @cherryjain17 @halo-mystic @starofanotherworld @latinxbipride @viatorem-maris @acotarbestie @sevikas-whore @anthonys-viscountess @randomgurl2326 @thelov3lybookworm @cat-or-kitten

[buntanteen]

sweet and loving boyfriend!joshua headcanons <3 (sfw)

summary: shua and reader romantic relationship headcanons :3 (you can read as a stand alone or as a part of the upcoming jihan poly relationship!!)

contains: mushy romance. implications that reader speaks korean & english

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

boyfriend!joshua who'll let you cling and bite onto his thick ass arms and put your face in his tiddies😌

sunday mornings are exclusively quality time with boyfriend!joshua. y'all will be making a breakfast spread or sitting on the balcony soaking in the sunrise, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. joshie’s absolute favourites are rainy sunday mornings (…WE KNOW WHY) and he will smoother you with in bed cuddles <3 🥹

boyfriend!joshua who is completely and utterly enamoured by you. the two of you will make eye contact and he'll hit you with that lil ◠‿◠ smile and then you're melting and now he's melting and you're both melting, and the members are disgusted at how ooey gooey y'all are being

disgustingly sweet boyfriend!joshua who always does cheesy shit to make you blush. he’ll ask "hey, can you hold this for me? ><" and then proceed to put his hand in yours fgjkdbs

having to compromise with boyfriend!joshua about texting back because why does this man not reply to people??

boyfriend!joshua who will always order food for you!! and will always feed you the perfectly made bites of his meal as well :3

boyfriend!joshua who likes to share his specific taste in things (furniture, perfumes, jewellery, etc.) with you. even if you aren't for fancy things, you'll show interest for him because it makes him happy 😊

an absolute sucker for seasonal or weather-based dates. especially water based dates...what can i say boyfriend!joshua likes water. is so so happy in the rain, just running around splashing puddles (what can i say...he likes water :3)

winter dates: going ice skating and when u fall boyfriend!joshua skates up to u in distress and asks if u need some ice for that😑will buy you snacks at the street vendors as an apology and to warm you up <3

summer dates: at the beach where boyfriend!joshua loves taking sunset pics of you to make his phone's lockscreen and background

boyfriend!joshua who can't meet you empty handed and will get you random things such as lil drinks, a pair of socks cuz they were cute or an expensive ass perfume cuz he thinks it'll smell nice on you :3

boyfriend!joshua who will sweetly serenade you with his guitar…and then bust out the sunday morning because he got too shy afterwards

on days where you don't feel the best, boyfriend!joshua will come home to you with a care package when you feel down and absolutely pamper you with whatever you desire until you feel better. he'll definitely do that head patting thing to you 🥹

boyfriend!joshua kissing your hand as he leaves for his schedules. you tightening your grip and pulling him closer, causing him to do that delighted laugh of his before he gives you a proper goodbye kiss gjkfbd

matchy matchy outfits and items with boyfriend!joshua 🥰 loves when you’re matching him with a phone case or a keychain or jewellery or the entire fit

boyfriend!joshua being a gentleman and you being a one right back at him. it becomes a competition atp for who can do the more chivalrous thing. you opening his car door after he's driven you to your date destination? he'll open up the door to the establishment for you (he waved open to the sensor door thing lmao)

boyfriend!joshua u find him not crazy but it turns out u just are the same level of freak as him :D he's just crazy and crazy for you <3

trying out different hands on activities with boyfriend!joshua!! y’all are on a mission to try to impress his momma with baked goods (cuz wdym making cookies is easy THAT SHIT IS DIFFICULT😭)

switching languages with boyfriend!joshua during conversations. pulling different english or korean words whilst the members just stare at you confused (vernon either joins in or is in his own world)

boyfriend!joshua sweetly calling you “baby” or “yeobo”. or will casually call you “babe”. calls you “my baby” “my darling” in very romantic moments or when he wants something really badly cuz he knows it'll make you fold 😌

always making boyfriend!joshua laugh because it makes you so happy to see him so happy. his laughter pierces you, blooming and spreading joy throughout your body

boyfriend!joshua who is just a soft lover with a glowing warmth to him. he's the rays of the sunset that warms you after a long day with the promise of a better tomorrow <3

ames note: i am so SOOOO down bad for this man it is crazyyy. his recent live was my first ever live of joshie and i was just?? giggling??? and smiling??? so much!?!? svt at lollapalooza is in just over a day!! i hope everyone can enjoy ittttt (it is at like 3am for me rip. i hope y'all enjoyeddddd the writinggg~ i'm gonna write a jeonghan and jihan poly headcanon at some point idk when tho <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Starting The Morning Off Right » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky start the morning off the right way.

Warnings: mix of Fluff and Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, female receiving, unprotected sex, morning sex, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, Bucky’s Army dog tags, pet names

A/N: This is based off of a dream I had a couple nights ago. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You stirred in your sleep when you felt your boyfriend’s lips kissing along the back of your shoulders, his stubble scratching along your skin. You smiled at the feeling. Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to look at him.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Bucky murmurs softly, his voice raspy from waking up a moment before you.

“Good morning, baby.” You smiled at him.

You rolled over onto your back so you could give Bucky a proper morning kiss. You carded your fingers through his messy hair as he kissed you. The kiss started off sweet, but quickly got heated. Bucky moved himself on top of you, hovering over you. You could feel the cool metal of his Army dog tags in between your breasts.

“How about we start the morning off the right way, babydoll.” He suggests seductively, moving his lips down to your neck and kissed the hickeys he put there last night.

“Mmm, you read my mind, babe.” You hummed against his lips.

Bucky threw the blanket off the two of you. You guys were still naked from last night’s activities. You watched Bucky kiss his way down your body. He spread your legs so he could lay on his stomach in between them.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, doll.” Bucky almost whispers, rubbing a finger from your entrance to your clit.

You moaned softly. You could also feel his breath on your pussy. Bucky’s tongue licked a stripe on your pussy, moaning at your taste. The tip of his tongue circled your clit before he latched his lips onto your clit, sucking on it. Your mouth fell open, strings of moans fell from your lips. You reached a hand down, tugging on his hair.

“Oh fuck, Bucky!” You moaned.

Bucky picked up the pace with the movements of his tongue. Your head fell back against the pillow. Your hips moved slowly on their own accord against his face.

“You feeling good, doll face?” Bucky asks, taking his mouth off of your pussy momentarily.

“Yes!” You answered in a moan.

Bucky smirks to himself, knowing he’s doing an amazing job of making you feel good. He put his mouth back on your pussy. He began to wiggle his tongue against your folds, catching you off guard.

“Yes, fuck!” You moaned. “Keep doing that, baby!” You tell him.

Bucky continued to wiggle his tongue against your folds. He slowly moved his tongue upward to your clit, licking it in a flicking motion. That made you arch your back off the bed in pleasure. You moaned his name multiple times in a row as if you were chanting. It was music to Bucky’s ears.

You felt your lower stomach tighten, feeling your orgasm beginning to build up. Your legs began to shake from the amount of pleasure you were receiving from Bucky. Your grip on Bucky’s hair tightened. Your toes curled, feeling your orgasm coming closer and closer. Bucky could sense it. He can always sense when you’re about to cum.

“You getting close, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Mhmm yea.” You nodded. “Please don’t stop!” You moaned.

Bucky’s tongue quickened its movements. He’s determined to make you cum before he fucks you. Your mouth fell open, strings of moans leaving your lips. It felt like a tidal wave was about to come crashing down on you.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He says.

You moaned his name loudly as you came hard, soaking his face. Bucky’s tongue circled your clit a few times before stopping. He sat up and hovered over you. You panting heavily, staring at his Army dog tags as they dangled over your face. He dipped his head down and kissed along your shoulders while you caught your breath.

“You ready for my cock, doll face?” Bucky asks against your shoulder.

“Yes.” You answered.

Bucky gave you a sweet kiss on your lips before sitting back on his knees. He put your legs over the top of his thighs. His hands rubbed the top of your thighs as he admired your beauty for a short moment. He wrapped his hand around his hard cock, stroking it in his hand a few times before lining it at your entrance. He slowly slid his cock in your pussy inch by inch. Relieved moans fell from your lips and his.

Bucky gave you a moment to adjust to his size when his cock was fully inside of you. You nodded, giving him the ok to start thrusting. Bucky hovered over you, putting his arms on either side of your head and started thrusting. His pace was slow and loving, something you both love. You put your hands on his back, feeling his muscles flex each time he thrusted into you.

“You feel amazing, doll.” Bucky softly moans in your ear.

You moaned when he said that. You dug your nails in his skin, leaving red line marks on his back. Bucky hissed at the feeling. He loves the feeling of you marking him up with your nails and you know it too. He also likes showing off the scratches you leave on his back when he’s training.

Bucky dipped his head down to kiss and mark up your neck even more. Your hands started to roam his body on their own accord. Your hands found their place on his ass and gave it a squeeze. Bucky let out a breathy chuckle. He didn’t mind one bit. He likes it when you get handsy. He likes to tease you about it too.

“You’re getting handsy, aren’t you, doll face?” Bucky teasingly said.

“More.” Is all you said. “I want more.” You whined.

“As you wish, babydoll. My doll gets what she wants.” He says.

Bucky readjusted himself and spread your legs wider and began fucking you at a faster pace. Your hands slowly moved from his ass to his back. You threw your head back against the pillow in pleasure. It felt like you were on cloud nine. Bucky looked down at you, admiring how pretty you look with his cock in you and when pleasure takes over you within seconds.

“Oh yes, Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

“That’s a good girl.” Bucky praises. “Keep moaning my name. Let everyone in this fucking compound know who you belong to.” He says, sounding a tiny bit possessive.

Bucky readjusted himself again, putting your leg over his shoulder, which gave him a new angle. A loud moan fell from your lips when Bucky’s cock hit your sweet spot perfectly.

“Right there!” You moaned. “Please don’t stop!” You whined.

“Don’t worry, babydoll. I fucking won’t.” He growls.

Bucky’s thrusts drive into you faster, fucking you at the perfect speed. His cock was hitting all of the right places. His vibranium hand reached in between the two of you to rub your clit. You gasped when you felt the cool vibranium touching your clit.

“Yea, you like that, don’t you, doll?” Bucky almost whispers. “You like my vibranium fingers playing with your little clit, don’t you?” He says, almost in a cooing voice.

You moaned and nodded your head yes in response. His dirty words always get you going. Your nails dug more in his skin when he hit your sweet spot at the perfect angle. You felt your orgasm build up pleasurably. It felt like a tidal wave was about to come crashing down on you.

“I can feel you getting close, doll.” Bucky grunts softly when your pussy squeezed his cock. “Cum for me.” He says.

That was enough for you to fall over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and his name fell from your lips as you came. Bucky fucked you through your orgasm and gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm.

His right hand found its place on your thigh and kept it there, giving it a squeeze. His orgasm wasn’t too far behind yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He moans.

He finally came, coming inside of you and painting your walls with his cum. A white ring of yours and his cum formed at the base of his cock. Bucky’s thrusts came to a slow stop. You two gazed at each other breathlessly before he put your leg back on the bed and pulled out of you.

He laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. You moved closer to him, laying your head on his chest and your leg on top of his leg. Bucky reached a hand down, holding onto your thigh and rubbing his thumb against your soft skin.

“That was amazing.” You said after a short moment.

“It was.” Bucky agrees. “It’s always the best way to start the day.” He says.

You hummed in agreement and leaned up to kiss his lips softly and sweetly.

“I love you, babydoll.” He says in almost a whisper.

“I love you too, baby.” You say softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[moonsaver]

i like the idea of sunday being this prim and proper church boy, absolutely gentlemanly so well put together. but the moment he meets the 'right person' he just turns into this high maintenance clingy princess........

HAHHA i kept thinking ab this ask randomly. It just kept popping up into my head from time to time.

I imagine in the start, maybe he's just getting a crush on you, or he's trying to drop hints – he's veeery gentlemanly. Opens the door for you, pulls out the chair for you, occasionally gifts you flowers, compliments you fairly well, etc etc..

And then in the relationship, he starts becoming a little bit clingy. It starts out faint at first – taking a few extra minutes to just hold onto you, kiss your face, occasionally hugging you from behind and holding on before you ask him to let go.

And then it gets worse.

Well, as "worse" as it can get actually. He's unfortunately quite adorable with it.

He sulks when you have to get up and out of bed, leaving him behind, when you leave to go to the bathroom. He'll be subtle, but he'll be sure you see it – turning his back to you, curling up into himself as if it's the cold winter and he hath no shelter until you coo and pamper him.

Only likes being touched by you – so for the most part he wants you to help him comb through his hair and wings. Only wants you to massage it and (gently) scratch them from time to time. It becomes a sort of habit or routine for you two – early mornings where he sits all propped up at the dressing table, waiting for you to gently comb through his bed hair and compliment the softness of it. Acts so shocked when you refuse, as if he hasn't heard it right. He'll continue doing his own hair, but you'll constantly, periodically hear from the other side of the room, or from the corners of the house – his sighs and the sad, victorian boy look in his eyes until you feel guilty.

He doesn't like eating desserts if you don't eat with him. He insists and even pesters you to occasionally text him random stuff during the day so he can talk to you. Acts passive aggressive when you comment on how pretty someone else's halo is. He'll sometimes sigh wearily and "accidentally" ponder out loud just when will his significant other finally pay attention to him?

You have to spoil him rotten with kisses and affection, and promise to go out on dates with him after, just to get him to stop being so melodramatic. Not to mention you have to big spoon him. And even then, he'll grumble into the crook of your neck until you pamper him a bit more.

Granted, he won't overdo it. But a few people, like Robin and your family, might know just how clingy he is. A simple "I can't come, sorry" from you is enough for them to understand that it's Sunday who's been (subtly) whining and sulking for your attention, and wounds up making you cancel some of your plans. Maybe you do enjoy staying in with him, maybe you don't. Either way, it's not bad. He does spoil you in return too – paying for all your show subscriptions, ordering whatever you want to eat, big spooning you whenever you want. There's many other ways he can pay you back, too.

--

[minhosimthings]

Sweet As Cherry Wine || KSM, 18+

In which the cold librarian's heart gets melted by his best friend's sister

Synopsis: Kim Seungmin was the assistant librarian at your uni's library and the love of your life. Oh and also your brother's best friend.

Pairings: Seungmin × fem!reader, includes rest of skz, Winter (aespa)

Warnings: brother's best friend trope, a play on Hades and Persephone, secret relationship, flufff, seungmin is a menace, SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), brief choking, slightly sub minnie?, just a lot of me simping after his fingies, semi public sex (in the library)

A/N: YEAH ANOTHER SEUNGMIN FIC WOOHOOOOOO LETS GAURRRRRRR an official thank you to Mona's creative juices for actually working hard to complete this. Hope y'all enjoy!

Word count: 7k (so.many.synonyms)

“And how she let the pomegranate juice,

Drip from her smiling lips,

Even Hades trembled under sweet Persephone’s gaze.”

The tantalising smell of old leather and paper hugged your nostrils as soon as you crossed the threshold of the outdoors into the library. The entire room had the faint smell of sandalwood wafting through it as well, which your lungs appreciated as you breathed the air in.

Having spent only six months in your university as a freshman, you had never dared to step foot into the university’s famed collection of books more than five times. You were far too intimidated by it. That, and also the fact that you had a tremendous amount of work hanging over your head. And you certainly did not want to disappoint your parents, who worked day and night in ensuring that you had a proper education.

“Y/Nnie come on!” Your best friend, Jeongin, grabbed your hand and dragged you further into the grand building. Jeongin was the first friend you had made in college, having argued furiously with him in your sociology class on the modern feminist forms of thought. Deciding that he was smart enough to never keep you bored, you promptly shook hands with him. He must have thought so too, because the very next day, he introduced you to his band of friends, with whom he had grown up since childhood.

And now, you could see one of those friends waving to the both of you from a very large table. It was Lee Minho–dance prodigy, archeology student in his third year, frequent arson enthusiast and a cat dad. That was what you had gotten from him, six months into your friendship

“Hyung!” Jeongin practically leapt on the stunning man as soon as he came near him, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Minho made a face of disgust, but you could see the faint smile threatening to spill out as he hugged Jeongin back.

“Let go of me before I suffocate you, brat.” Minho said, giving you a smile as Jeongin reluctantly pulled back, “Alright, Y/N?”

“Good as always.” You responded with a grin. “Oh, congratulations on your win at the Dance Masters by the way!” Minho tilted his head at you as a ‘thank you’, with his ears turning furiously red, and his smile widening.

“And what about me?” A smooth voice made you jump as the ever-present smile of Hwang Hyunjin appeared before your eyes.

“Give me a warning before you pop out of nowhere!” You laughed, being engulfed into a tight hug by Hyunjin, “And congratulations to you, as well.”

“Why thank you.” Hyunjin did a dramatic sort of curtsy after unleashing you from his arms, “Hyung, have you seen Lix anywhere? He forgot his keychain with me.”

“He’s still stuck in class.” Minho muttered, raising his arms up abruptly and stretching with a very loud sigh, “My bones are so stiff, I swear to God.”

“Could you keep it down, old man?”

Perhaps the most annoying voice in the entire campus rang in your ears as you spun on your heel to see the bane of your existence. The world’s most insidious bastard faced you, in the form of a 5 '10, history-majoring, glasses-wearing, probably drinks pomegranate juice in the morning sophomore.

Kim Seungmin.

The universe couldn't have made a more negative person.

And a more perfect secret boyfriend too.

“Seungmin!” Hyunjin reached his arms out to straddle the man into a hug. You snickered at the sight of Seungmin’s disgusted face.

“Haven't seen you around in a while, Seung.” Minho said, “Been cleaning any more books recently?” Seungmin sighed dramatically, and miraculously swept out of Hyunjin’s tight arms, giving a sarcastic smile to Minho.

“Oh no hyung,” He said in an overly sweet voice, “Nowadays, I’ve just been spending my time wondering how on earth you thought purple was a good colour for your hair.”

Minho glared at Seungmin, who only smiled sweetly. His gaze caught yours in a swift glance.

"And I see that Miss Shorthead has decided to visit me.” He said, bending down a bit to be at your eye-level, “Do the other dwarfs know how to read as well?”

“Would it kill you to be nice for once?” You said, trying to send you a glare, which instantly disappeared when Minho decided to coo at you.

“Aww you look so adorable when you’re angry.” He chuckled, leaning against the table, “You look like my cat, Dori.”

You looked at Minho with a pleading look as if to say ‘not now. ‘Not in Seungmin’s presence’. Although that didn't work very well, evident from the smirk forming on Seungmin’s face.

“Well that’s maybe because–” Seungmin’s words were gracefully interrupted by the long-haired dancer.

“Well, I’m just going to go ahead and take this to Lix.” Hyunjin sighed, sending you a smile. You sent him one back, silently thanking him for saving you from Seungmin’s taunt about your height.

“I wanna come too.” Jeongin said resolvedly, swinging his bag over his arm and looking at you, “Do you wanna come? We can see Lix hyung after so many days again!” You nodded frantically, avoiding Seungmin’s curious expression. Anything to get out of that situation.

“Well that’s settled then.” Minho groaned like an old man, “Yah Kim Seungmin, got any books for stiff shoulders here?”

“Wow hyung, I didn't know you could actually read.”

“You little–”

You were already halfway out the door by the time both of them started bickering like a divorced couple again, frolicking away in the autumn sun alongside Hyunjin and Jeongin, the latter still holding your hand.

“Keep dragging her like that, and Changbin hyung will have your head for dinner.” Hyunjin chuckled, in response to which Jeongin rolled his eyes.

“He knows we’re friends, pabo.” He said, “Plus, no offence Y/Nnie, but I’ve already fallen for someone else.” He sighed dramatically, letting go of your hand and clutching his chest, “She’s the most gorgeous female person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Use the phrase ‘female person’ in front of her and you’re not gonna get so far as a glance.” You joked making Hyunjin laugh raucously, “It's Min-Jeong from our econ class right?”

Jeongin didn't even bother asking how you knew, all too aware of your highly observant nature, one that rivalled Minho and his cats.

“Glad to know you have enough brain to know not to date your best friend’s younger sister.” Hyunjin sent you a wink, brushing his long hair back, “Anyone going to Seungmin’s book-reading thing tomorrow?”

“I am.” You piped up, casually fixing the button of your coat, and looking back up to see the utterly shocked faces of the two boys, “What?”

“You.” Jeongin gasped, “Oh my god.” He gasped, looking at Hyunjin with wide eyes and then pumping his fist in the air, much to your alarm, “Oh my god, I knew it! I knew it, I WAS RIGHT!” Hyunjin pressed his hands to his ears, very annoyed by Jeongin’s sudden screaming. You, on the other hand, sported a confused face.

“Mind telling us what you were right about, Newton?” You said, slapping Jeongin’s arm. He cleared his throat and looked at you with a teasing expression.

“You like him, don't you?” He giggled, “You like Kim Seungmin.”

“Did we accidentally feed him drugs?” You laughed awkwardly, avoiding both of their eyes, to which Jeongin gasped dramatically again.

“Suspicious how you're not looking into my eyes, Seo Y/N.” Jeongin stated with the air of a detective, “Very suspicious.”

“Hyune, mind informing my brother that he needs to go and hunt down a fox today?” You glared at Jeongin, who kept giggling like a villain, “Yang Jeongin, if you don’t stop laughing, I will put a frog in your pants.”

“Alright, alright.” Jeongin laughed, clutching his stomach, “I’m not getting off the SeungY/N train anytime soon though.” he threw you a wink, to which you gagged theatrically.

“There’s nothing to like about that asshole.” You defended yourself, climbing up the steps of the building that you had reached, “Look, I’m just going to the book-reading to support him. You know, like a good friend would do.”

“Huh, I didn't realise good friends call their friends, assholes.” Hyunjin interjected, eyeing you up and down, quickly raising up his hands in defeat when he saw you turn maliciously towards him, “Hey, I’m just making an observation.”

“I’ll take that as an observation then.” You eyed him suspiciously to which he chuckled, “Kim Seungmin is the most insipid, emotionless, inhumane bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Alright, I think Lix should be out by now.” Hyunjin brought the conversation to the end, checking his watch, “You two better get to class.”

“Ugh don't remind me.” Jeongin groaned, “Miss Baek will be out for my soul today and I’m dying to get to bed.”

“I heard Min-Jeong is looking for a date in our class, for Haechan's party on Sunday.”

“And suddenly I’m awake.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Persephone would climb onto her husband’s lap like it was her throne.

To the world, Hades was an unyielding, merciless king,

For her, he was tender and vulnerable.”

“You know–” Seungmin’s voice dropped to a lower tone as soon as your back collided with the bookshelf, “—Changbin hyung will actually kill me if he finds out about this.”

“And?” You said, toying with the collar of his shirt with both your hands, “Don’t tell me I bagged a man who's too much of a pussy to stand up to my brother.”

“Your man huh?” Seungmin’s teeth bit down on his bottom lip, his hands drawing shaped against your waist, “Well, let’s just say your man is merely following the orders of his queen.”

A blush crept up to your cheeks at his words as you giggled, resting your hands on either of his shoulders. God did he look handsomer than ever, with the pale yellow night-light of the library illuminating only one side of his face. In the darkness, you could still see those beautiful eyes of his, with constellations swimming in each corner of them.You wondered how he didn’t go blind from carrying all those stars in his eyes.

“What are you staring at hm?” Seungmin whispers, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Just….....you.” You said, bringing your hands up to his hair. Your fingers automatically intertwined in his gorgeous locks, effectively massaging his head as you ran your hand through them. Seungmin melted into your touch.

“Keep doing that and I’ll go and confess to your brother tomorrow.” He chuckled, leaning down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his soft lips touched your neck, moving across the skin to press a number of sweet, feather-light kisses on it. It tickled you quite pink.

“Min..” You trailed off, but he didn't stop with his quest, “your lips are so soft, it tickles!”

“I could spend the whole day doing just this.” Seungmin mumbled, rising up and grabbing your waist with his right arm, whilst his left wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer towards him. Your hands pressed flat against his chest, wandering there before you tensed as his fingers brushed through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear before trailing along the side of your neck. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if savouring the moment.

The longing was palpable, igniting when you threw yourself against him. Your lips crashed together fiercely, without hesitation, as if you both need this like a sick person needs medicine. The kiss was urgent, as if time was running out and every second was too precious to waste.

He presses you against the bookshelf harsher, the force of his body pinning you in place, leaving you unable to move. But there’s no fear, only a growing desire that intensifies with every movement of his lips against yours. Seungmin’s hands explore your body with an intensity that makes you shiver. You feel his nails digging into your skin, the overwhelming blend of pain and pleasure only fuels your craving for more.

You reciprocate with equal intensity, your hands roaming over his body, pulling him closer, as if mere proximity will never be enough. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as he trails kisses down your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you.

“Fuck…Seungmin…” You gasp in between the kiss. He tastes so good, like melted sugar and hints of your chapstick; you want nothing more than to devour him, sink your teeth in deeper and let your bones fade into his as the earth keeps spinning on its unimaginably prosaic axis. You don’t want to end this, this dance of your souls pirouetting together towards the end of the world.

Unfortunately, the library was a public place, where poetry-drunk students barged in even at midnight.

“Seungmin!” A voice cried, “Kim Seungmin, where are you?!”

His lips stopped moving on yours abruptly, as he squeezed your waist and turned his face to the side, towards the source of the voice he had just heard. Being an assistant librarian really did a number on his listening skills, though he had to admit that the footsteps were loud and the voice was familiar enough for you to quickly pull your arms away from him.

“What the fuck is he doing here at this hour?” You said in a panicked tone, whipping your head around to look for a hiding place. Anyone could identify your brother’s voice easily, that distinct child-like yet powerful tone lacing it in a sweet manner.

Your brother was a music major, now in his third year. You were surprised to have been ‘introduced’ to him by Jeongin, who was completely oblivious for a month about the fact that both his best friends’ names started with ‘Seo’. And of course, much like your other friends, he didn't know anything about your and Seungmin’s relationship, having believed the white-lie that you two were just friends who liked to occasionally demolish each other’s egos.

After all, why on earth would his sweet little sister fall for such a menace like Kim Seungmin?

“Wait, what section are we in?” Seungmin’s eyes browsed through the books quickly, lighting up brightly when he fell on a bunch of books lined up perfectly under the title ‘Modern Economics’. He grinned at you with all his teeth.

“You’re getting a book on Performance Based Incentives aren't you babe?” He smirked, quickly pulling a bunch of books and setting them on the table, “And I just happened to be such a sweet friend and helped you out, right?”

“Now why–” You flicked his forehead with your finger, “—would I be getting a book this late, idiot?”

“Punctuality problems.” Seungmin stated simply, rubbing his forehead with his hand. You didn't get the opportunity to question him any further when he picked up a random book and started flicking through the pages. He cleared his throat very loudly and started speaking in an overly exaggerated voice.

“So if you’ll see this paragraph Y/N,” You stifled your laugh at his dramatic narration, “this will help you loads in your essay.”

“There you are!”

Before he could continue further, a shadow crept over in the form of your brother, Changbin. A mop of unruly curls framed his face while a tight compression shirt framed his sturdy figure. You quickly took a step back from Seungmin, which thankfully your brother didn't notice.

“Oh hey hyung.” Seungmin said calmly, with a snicker, “Since when did you become a book-worm huh?” Changbin didn’t respond to Seungmin’s teasing, instead narrowing his eyes at you.

“What are you doing here?” Changbin said, in that same over-protective brotherly tone he always used.

“I’m building a dam.” You said with a face so dead-pan that Seungmin burst out laughing, slamming his hands on the table. You grinned innocently at Changbin, who was now standing near you.

“Seriously, Y/Nnie.” Changbin gave you a soft smile, “You shouldn't be out so late at night, it's dangerous.”

“Why, because I’m a woman?” You raised a brow at your brother who shook his head in early defeat, “Bin, I’m fine seriously. Plus–” You gave what you hoped was a ‘friendly’ smack to Seungmin’s arm, “–I have this asshole to protect me. Right, asshole?” You glanced at Seungmin who, much to your alarm, smirked at you in the most flirtatious manner possible.

“Uh huhhh.” Changbin drawled out, crossing his arms over his chest, “But why ar—”

“Hyung, did you need something?” Seungmin interjected, giving a dramatic yawn, “I was gonna shut shop fifteen minutes ago, but this woman here–” He turned his head towards you, “—came in five minutes before closing and asked for very specific books.” He furrowed his brows at you in a playful manner, “Really Y/N, a man needs his beauty sleep you know?”

Beauty sleep, my ass, you thought. Your eyes lingered over the faint traces of your chapstick still stuck to his lips and the back of his head all messy from how you pulled his hair. You hoped fervently that his amazing kisses on your neck didn't leave any suspicious marks.

“Good lord, I should stop watching dramas.” Changbin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, “Here I was thinking the both of you were canoodling or something.”

You and Seungmin made gagging sounds at the same time, giving each other a little smirk when Changbin wasn't looking.

“Do not use the word canoodling ever again.” You laughed, “Go on then, satisfy the librarian and tell him what you need.”

“No wait, let me guess!” Seungmin piped up before Changbin could even open his mouth, placing a finger to his chin and pretending to think, “You’re here…..to pick up that musical anatomy book for Chan hyung!”

Your brother’s jaw dropped open comically and Seungmin raised his chin up in a triumphant sort of way. He started speaking again before Changbin could.

“It was simple really.” He said, in a Sherlock Holmes tone, “Chan hyung asked me to keep that book on hold for him today and he never arrived to pick it up.” Seungmin beamed, “So you’re here for it, as a bribe to get him to sleep!”

Your eyes traced over Seungmin’s handsome features in the dim light, you hoped you weren't smiling too much lest Changbin raised his suspicions, but god damn did your boyfriend look so attractive when he was being smart. Even though you'd never admit it, you would have let him take you right there and then on the table in front of you. Perhaps even let him—

“Y/Nnie, are you alright? You’re red as a tomato.” Changbin looked at you with a concerned face, “Should I drop you home maybe?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You tried hard not to glare at Seungmin’s smug face, evidently he knew you were thinking about him, “I will take that drooping me home offer though so–” You picked up your bag from the table along with a random economics book–to keep up with your and Seungmin’s little lie, “Thanks for the help.” You said to Seungmin, before walking straight out of the section with a ‘I’ll wait outside’ to your brother.

“She does realise that she needs to get that thing registered right?” Seungmin said, walking along with Changbin to the front-desk where he worked, “It’s alright, just tell her she can do it tomorrow.” He started typing away on the computer in front of him, giving Changbin the book for Chan. he glanced up at the library’s entrance, lined with huge glass windows, where he could see your crossed-arm figure, tapping your foot and waiting for Changbin to come out. Cute, Seungmin thought, I have the cutest girlfriend in the world.

“What is up with you and Y/N turning all red this evening?” Changbin interjected his train of thoughts. Seungmin leaned back when Changbin attempted to check his temperature with a hand to the forehead, successfully shoving him out after five minutes of whining about how tired he was.

Plus, he did have a big day to get ready for tomorrow. The annual book reading that the university hosted was going to be held in less that 14 hours, according to Seungmin and as the revered assistant librarian, he had the courtesy of reading a passage along with the author that was to be invited.

He wished fervently to the stars to make sure that you were there to rest his nerves tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Under Persephone’s lips, white stars bloomed,

In his hair, only for a moment,

Then they wilted and fell,

And Hades fell.”

The sound of the autumn leaves crunching underneath your boots satisfied you as you briskly strutted to the library. Donning an orangish-brown cardigan over a little black skirt, you looked like the most autum-coded person ever. Of course, that was done on purpose, after hours of you and your friend Jisung digging through your respective closets to style the most perfect pumpkin fairy outfits. Your hair was done perfectly and your makeup was on point. You made sure to use your darkest shade of lip-gloss, one that you knew always drove Seungmin crazy whenever he saw it.

The library looked extra gothic to you today, with beautiful hues of orange and brown framing its magnificent structure. But you had no time to waste in admiring the beauty of it today.

No, today was meant for one person and one person only.

The love of your life, Kim Seungmin.

You glided into the library through the revolving doors, immediately being greeted by a patient crowd, most of them sitting on the chairs and some of them standing. Your eyes zoomed around the room before they landed on a blue haired boy. Your friend, Han Jisung, stood restlessly, tapping his foot away and adjusting his glasses every now and then.you walked over to him, smiling as he spotted you.

“I knew you’d come!” Jisung engulfed you in a tight hug, almost choking you, “Thank god you arrived in time, I was almost about to leave.” He let out a short laugh, “I have no idea who these nerds are.”

“Ji.” You said scoldingly, looking apologetically at a wide eyed girl who was sneering at Jisung, “Do you know when they’ll be starting?”

“Yeah, in about five minutes.” A deep voice behind you made you flinch. You turned around to see the smiling face of Lee Felix, Minho’s younger brother and your baking buddy.

“Lix!” Han cried, scaring the wide eyed girl again, “Man, I haven't seen you guys in forever.” He ran a hand through his hair. You chuckled.

“Isn't sophomore year supposed to be the hardest, Ji?” You said, to which Jisung responded with a frown, “I suppose our resident old man is working hard to graduate.”

“He hasn't slept in, let me see….” Jisung began counting on his fingers, making you and Felix laugh, “oh yeah thirteen years.” He scoffed, “No wonder he hasn't noticed I went out to drink with Changbin hyung yesterday.”

“Old man huh, Y/N?” Felix laughed, “Seungmin is really rubbing off on you. Oh and that lip-gloss is on point.”

Before you could respond however, the lights dimmed and a weird sort of spotlight shone on the two high legged stools which were kept at a distance, surrounded by books which sat upon miniature round tables. Your eyes started adjusting to the sudden change in light, when the familiar shape of your boyfriend stepped forward along with a black haired lady, who you assumed was the guest speaker for the day.

“Good morning everyone.” Seungmin spoke into a mic, “Please welcome our talented speaker for the day, Han Kang!” You applauded along with everyone else as the lady bowed slightly and settled down on the stool, with Seungmin sitting down next to her.

“He looks nervous, doesn't he?” Felix whispered to you. You merely nodded, silently agreeing. He did look like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Which he probably was.

But in the next moment, Seungmin’s eyes landed on yours and the world around him faded. The scattered applause and the lady speaking next to him merged into silence as he looked at you. He felt his lungs ease up and his breathing become calmer, as if you were the oxygen that he so desperately needed to get through the entire day.

You were just standing there in your ridiculously orange outfit, which he made a mental note to tease you about later, and your smile was all he needed to convince himself to man up and get through the thing that he’d been preparing for, for weeks.

“Shall we begin?” The lady’s voice and the snapping of a book’s spine alerted Seungmin. He nodded and picked up his own copy, turning to the first page and catching the underlined words just as the lady started to recite. He glanced up once more to see you taking in each and every word being recited with rapt attention.

Seungmin smiled to himself.

He couldn't wait to be in your arms after this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh how Hades’ hair is softest

When he’s down on his knees

Coaxing spring out

From inside of Persephone.”

The library was never an ideal place to be after 10 pm. It was practically isolated, far away from any dorm room or living spaces. The closest refugee area was a 24/7 convenience store about 2 kilometres from it. But it was the perfect place for a certain librarian and his girlfriend to hide out and get away from the world for a peaceful night.

Well, almost peaceful.

“You’re so beautiful…..” Seungmin’s hands dance your hips around the hall, before finally pushing you into the most perfect corridor. It was lined with books, along with a few chairs and a table. Seungmin loved this spot for many reasons. Particularly because it wa a blind spot to the CCTV camera,

The heat of his touch burns your skin, even through the fabric of your clothes. He leans in, his lips colliding against yours in a bruising kiss. His features are like fallen angels, you thought, so soft and yet so powerful. His hands slid lower, pushing up beneath your skirt. He stops there to squeeze your thigh gently. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes dark with need.

“Admit it,” he smirks, “You wore this little thing on purpose didn't you?”

“And what if I say I did?” You say boldly, you had nothing to lose, “What if I said I wore my best gloss—” You started pushing him back until he reached the table, “—and my best skirt just for you?”

You see the lust flash through Seungmin's eyes. Slowly, he releases you, allowing you to take a step back. He looks at you, desire and fear tangled in his gaze. And then, as if he had made a decision, his resolve breaks. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

He walks towards you, closing the gap between you, and whispers huskily, “Show me then.” He toys with your hips once more as you lay your hands flat on his chest, “Show me what’s under that best skirt of yours.”

Seungmin’s heart races as you unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation. His hands roam your clothed body, exploring every curve and contour with desperate hunger. He can’t get enough of you, the feel of your skin under his fingertips, and the taste of your lips on his.

“You’re desperate today, aren't you darling?” he sighs, his voice rough with desire. "So needy for me."

He reaches out, his hand gliding over the curve of your breast, tracing the delicate curve of your waist. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine and lighting a fire deep within your core.

With that, he pulls you close once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both desperate and possessive. He pours all his longing, all his desire, into that one moment, and you can feel the intensity of his passion coursing through your veins.

“Nuh huh.” You say, breaking the kiss abruptly, and walking forwards, forcing him to walk backwards until his hands are gripping the table once more, “You did such a good job today, you deserve a reward don’t you?”

Without a word, you bent down in front of him, pulling at his pants with urgency. He helps you pull the fabric to the side, exposing his hard cock, you were mesmerised by how perfect it looked, thick, long and pretty with a pink tip.

You started teasing him, your mouth moving slowly, hands caressing his balls, but the teasing did not last long. Seungmin grabbed your hair, gently tugging your head forward. “Suck my cock,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “No teasing.”

You hummed, the vibrations travelling through his shaft making him lean his head back, he would have almost fell were it not for the table behind him, supporting his weight. Your eyes closed shut as your lips wrapped halfway over his dick, caressing your tongue over the bottom side as you savoured your favourite salty treat in the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, as you worked your tongue along his shaft. “You’re such a good girl, feels so good.”

Once satisfied with the feel of his heavy weight against your wet pink muscle, you widened out, ushering your mouth to take more as you felt his hand tighten around your head, his fingertips digging into your scalp, a low groan escaping his chapped parted lips.

"That’s it. Just like that, love…." He groaned, his fingers gently tangling in your hair at the back of your head as he guided you forward slightly. Though he didn't say it out loud, you knew he wanted you to go further in, conveyed perfectly by the way he was forcing your head forward by his hand. The harsh grip he had on your hair made you whimper around his cock.

You obeyed, taking him deeper, your mouth moving faster as you pleased him just the way he liked. Your knees scraped against the carpeted floor as you scooted further on his silent instruction, your face almost smushed into his pelvis.

“So fucking perfect…” he said through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “Keep doing that baby, that’s a good girl.” The words sent a shiver through you, and you moaned around him, sending vibrations along his length. He gasped, tightening his grip on your hair.

His other hand reached down, his thumb caressing your cheek as your pink glossy lips stayed parted on his thick girth. Tears brimmed your eyes as he pushed forward once more, a part of you wanted to protest but all that came out was jumped whimpers around him.

You couldn’t respond, your mouth full of him, but the moans you let out told him everything. You took him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, and he cursed under his breath, his abs tightening.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

You nodded eagerly, his hands guided your movements, and his moans filled the air, telling you how perfect you were, how no one could ever make him feel like this. It only took a few more strokes before his hips jerked, and with a groan, he spilled into your mouth.

His head fell back, and he moaned, “Such a good girl, my good girl. You did so good for me…..sucked my cock so well.” You swallowed everything, licking him clean before pulling away, looking up at him as he watched you with hooded eyes.

Seungmin helped you up on your feet, guiding you into his arms as your lips met in a soft kiss. You could still taste his arousal on your tongue, sickeningly sweet, like some poisonous wine. That, combined with the fumes of his cologne only made you rub your heated, clothed core against him.

“My turn now, baby.” He whispers against your mouth.

Before you knew it, he was pushing you flat against the bookshelf, pinning you in place in a familiar position with his body. His mouth crashes against yours, the kiss is fierce and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves you both breathless. His hands roam your body, groping and squeezing, leaving no inch of skin untouched.

“Min–baby—Seungmin.” You forcibly broke the kiss, “We’re in a library, what if someone—”

“Don’t give a damn,” he muttered, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing right in front of him. “I’ve been thinkin’ about your cunt all fuckin' day.”

The way he talked to you—filthy, raw, unapologetically possessive—set your body alight with anticipation. You had never actually fucked in the library before, but hey, new day, new learning opportunities, right?

Seungmins hand roam your body higher and higher until they reach a point where they’re pulling your cardigan off, leaving you in an undershirt, which quickly went down too. Your eyes never left his hands, lined with beautiful veins like bolts of lighting. God, did you miss them inside of you.

“Staring darling?” Seungmin cocked his head to the side, his left hand leaving your hip and grabbing your chin with his fingers. He tilted your jaw towards him, admiring your features for a moment, before taking your skirt off in an instant, leaving you in your panties and bra.

“How about we take these off, hm?” He mumbles, his hands already fiddling with the lining of your underwear. One nod from you was all it took for Seugmin to bend down, pulling your panties along with him, revealing your pussy to him, you hissed at the exposure. You gasped softly as he trailed his way back, fingers dancing on your bare legs. His hand reached your back, smoothly unbuckling the clasp to take your bra off.

“My gorgeous baby.” He crooned at your naked figure, practically glimmering to his eyes in the dim light. The moon was full tonight and slivers of it were slithering in through the windows, decorating your body with ribbons of beauty.

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savouring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself closer to you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Your fingers tangled in his hair when he sucked on one of your nipples, your eyes closing as you let out a soft hum. His teeth gently scraped the tender flesh, and you pulled him even closer, his hands roaming up your back, making you arch into him.

“You’re so wet, baby.” Seungmin slid his hands around your hips, gripping them tight as he positioned you just where he wanted you. He taps his cock against your velvety skin, eliciting a moan.

“Go on then.” Seungmin’s voice is powerful and dominating, “Spread those legs nice and wide for me.”

Your legs trembled as you obeyed, spreading yourself open for him, your wet, swollen clit exposed to his hungry eyes. He groaned, his breath ragged with lust as he looked at you, his lips parting slightly. Both his hands were trapping you in between them, effectively pinning you in place with your back hard against the bookshelf.

Seungmin waits for nothing else, easing himself into you, he groans loudly against your neck, the warmth surrounding him feeling euphoric. His arms wrapped around you, both of you moan as he finally sinks his cock into you. He slides in too easily, so easily you almost think he’d hadn’t meant to do it.

His hips start rutting into you fast, he needs this and he has you now, he can’t stop himself. You grip his shoulders hard, gasping and wailing, the sounds only egging him on.

He’s fucking you good as ever but there’s a sort of reckless confidence in his movements. His hands reach up to your neck, grabbing it harshly. It's so hot your head spins. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Seungmin!” You cry out, your voice ripping its way out of your throat, “Min–harder..pl-please.”

Seungmin’s chuckles vibrate through your body as his fingers grip your neck even tighter. There were sure to be marks all over it the next day, but you owned makeup and he didn't give a damn. Your mouth parted open as he kept on chocking you, fuck it felt so good, you could have coated his dick with your cum right there and then. Your mind went blank; it was him and only him.

Pleasure surges through you like electricity, Seungmin’s thick cock hitting all the right spots from this angle. While you weerent expecting sex agasint a bookshelf, the intensity which he fucks you with right now makes you think you could get used to this.

But it didn't last long, as your erratic breaths turned into deeper ones, when Seungmin’s hands left your throat painfully. You whined at the feeling. But you couldn't even complain, all too distracted by his sweet cock making you ascend to the heavens.

“Min—oh fuckkkk—you feel–oh! You feel so good!” You cry out, not caring whether you were loud or not.

“Yeah?” he groans between thrusts as you whine sweetly in his ear. “You like that, princess?”

He pounds into you, glad that you don’t seem to mind his ferocity. He’ll be gentle with you some other time, but right now, all this pent-up energy needs to come out, and you’re receiving it so well.

“Taking me so well. My dirty little baby…” he chokes out, and you moan in response, seemingly touched by his words. He lifts himself up onto his hands, staring down at you, his hips slamming into yours. He watches your beautiful face in fascination as it twists with pleasure.

“mm, that’s it…f—fuck...” He grunts in your ear, making you whine in response. His thick, girthy cock was stretching your pussy out, your hole gripping his dick each time he pulled out and slammed right back into you.

His moans resembled a growl almost, as you both reached your climax. You were rendered speechless as your orgasm pulled on your core, about to send you over the edge with a few more sloppy and languid thrusts. You cry out as he stuffed your pussy, thick, hot spurts of his cum filling you up to the brim.He continued leaving sloppy kisses across your shoulder blades, beads of his sweat dripping onto your warm skin.

Seungmin doesn’t pull away until he’s certain that there’s nothing else left to give, and he winces out of sensitivity as he slowly moves back to pull out, his cock laying limp against his thigh.

“What–” You gasp out your words, despite the absolute exhaustion, “—the fuck did we just do?”

“I don’t know–fuck?”

There were mere seconds of silence before the both of you burst into giggles. You leaned your head forward to rest on Seungmin’s shoulder. Now feeling the actual effect of your tiredness.

“I’ll drop you home.” Seungmin mumbled in your ear. You nodded, feeling way too sleepy to respond. Seungmin’s eyes wandered down to your neck. He smirked at the dark blue bruises in the shape of his fingers. He would have to buy you coffee for the following year just to make up for it. He wondered what on earth you would tell your brother, lest he asked how you managed to burn your neck with a curling iron.

But that would be to wonder for later, Seungmin thought, brushing all ideas aside and helping you get dressed, his touch so soft and sweet, a contrast to his persona five minutes ago.

“Min?” You said, as Seungmin slipped your cardigan onto you. Your voice was slightly strained and slightly drowsy.

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you.”

Seungmin’s lips morphed into a smile, before they gently touched yours in a short, chaste kiss.

“I love you too, my dearest.”

Suddenly telling Changbin about you two didn’t seem too scary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And the God of the underworld loved the Goddess of Spring,

He was her darkness, and she was his light,

Without death, spring would never come,

And without spring, there would be no death.”

The air in the room stilled dramatically.

To your right sat Minho, Jisung, Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin–all with their mouths hanging open, although Jeongin’s was threatening to form a smirk. To your left sat a smiling Chan, who had his arm around another man’s shoulder. The man in question?

Your wide-eyed brother.

Since childhood, you could always figure out Changbin’s mood easily, he was practically an open book. But now, as you sat in front of him, with your now official boyfriend Seungmin next to you, yourbrother’s expression was practically impossible to read. Was it anger? Or betrayal? Or happiness even?

“Bin?” Chan soothingly said, trying hard not to laugh at Changbin’s face, “Do you have anything to say?”

Changbin’s mouth opened for a second and then closed. And then it opened again.

“So that night–” He began slowly, you saw the other boys’ heads whip around to face him, “—when I was getting the book–” He looked up at you, “–you two were....?” He ended the sentence, but everyone in the room knew what he meant. Taking a gulp, you nodded.

“Right..yeah.. Right.” Changbin exhaled, slumping back against the sofa, “Yeah..no makes total sense, yep.”

“What he means is, he’s happy for the both of you.” Chan grinned brightly. Seungmin pulled you ever so closer with the arm he had around your waist.

“Yeah.. I’m so happy.” Changbin said through gritted teeth, before suddenly sitting up straight. He directed his eyes at you, fixing you in a stare that you knew meant you were in trouble.

‘You, we’ll talk at home.” He said, before directing his eyes to Seungmin, “And you.” He narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend, who gazed on, unfazed, “If you ever break her heart or do anything to make her sad–” He straightened his spine, “–I’ll break every bone in your body.”

“That’s it?” Seungmin piped up to everyone’s surprise, “Cool, well I don’t really prefer breaking hearts so we’ll be fine hyung. Now if you’ll excuse us,” He stood up, pulling you along with him, “My girlfriend and I have a date to get to.”

Jeongin coughed loudly while the rest of them looked on with pride, barring Changbin, as you and Seungmin quickly exited the room, running off with interlocked fingers and intertwined hearts.

The room fell silent again as the boys all stared at Changbin, who was holding his head in his hands.

“Hyung?” Jeongin began with uncertainty, “Are you alri–”

“HOW ON EARTH DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT THEM?” Changbin all but screamed, making the other flinch, “MY LITTLE SISTER, WITH HIM? I MEAN WHAT THE F–”

He continued screaming for the next five minutes, unbeknownst that the lips of two allied souls were dancing with each other, right outside the room.

As they would dance for eternity.

fin.

Taglist: @vixensss @miyeonna @15092000volcano @berntbang @cookiesandcreammy @babrieeee

[homunculus-argument]

These mornings remind me of another story I remember reading somewhere.

This dude had escaped a bad situation with pretty much nothing but his life and his cat, and temporarily lived in a place that had no heating. He still had his job and was looking for a better place the whole time he lived there, but this was genuinely one of those "it's this or being homeless" situations.

But getting up and putting on cold clothes every single morning understandably sucked ass. The cat had thick enough fur to get by, but while both of them managed, they didn't exactly enjoy it. But the mornings and the cold clothes were the worst.

Then this guy figured out that the cat likes sleeping on plastic bags. So he started folding his next day's clothes into a plastic bag every evening, making a sort of a pad, and somehow managed to train the cat into sleeping on it. So every morning, crawling out of bed into the cold air, he would trade with the cat - the cat would crawl into his human-warmed bed, and he would put on the clothes that were warmed by the cat.

This routine went on for the winter months they lived in that apartment, until he finally found a new place they could get, that had proper heating and other common decencies of proper housing that felt like luxuries in contrast to what they had.

But the cat still insists that he folds his clothing into a plastic bag every evening so she can sleep on it. And she will not let him go to bed before he's made one for her.

[prettyboykatsuki]

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART TWO

⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.

There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too. 

Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear. 

More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands. 

The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago. 

Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.

(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)

Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that.  It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly. 

Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory. 

Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at. 

Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.

He’s very, very intrigued by that. 

The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man. 

The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too. 

He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.

He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling. 

You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony. 

He approaches slowly, quietly. 

When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you. 

“Oh, uhm. Hello?” 

The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile. 

“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.” 

“Surprised?” 

And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly. 

“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.” 

You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new. 

“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?” 

Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little. 

“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.” 

You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record. 

“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.” 

He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.

“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.” 

You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.

“You seem plenty friendly to me.” 

He pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”

“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip. 

The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins. 

“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?” 

“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little. 

“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle. 

“A little,” 

“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile. 

You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor. 

“And yours?” 

“Gojo Satoru.” 

__

You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor. 

Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly. 

There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk. 

He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall.  You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar 

And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly  romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him  by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking. 

He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening. 

(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously  feeling quite jealous about.) 

You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades. 

And you always put your best into everything, no matter what. 

This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite. 

But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same. 

He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere. 

For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.  

You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean. 

It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions. 

He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade. 

He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it. 

 By you in general.

It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.

It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk. 

It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground. 

What’s heaven to a man born there?

__ 

In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted. 

He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.  

(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return.  There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.

It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.) 

Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children. 

In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is. 

But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply. 

Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.

But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade. 

It had led him to a conclusion,  but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of. 

Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late. 

Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most. 

It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home. 

(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.) 

But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant -  there, all the same.  As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be

It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen. 

He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings,  notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.

The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone. 

You’ve never called him before. 

“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.

“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”

You laugh quietly. 

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.” 

“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet. 

“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?” 

He smiles to himself.

“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,” 

“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.” 

His first instinct is to disagree.

“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.” 

“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”

He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him. 

“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.” 

“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.” 

“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?” 

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words. 

“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.” 

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.” 

“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.” 

“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?” 

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright. 

“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.

“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.” 

“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know? 

Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles. 

“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?” 

You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.

“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.” 

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain. 

“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

__

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed. 

He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction. 

More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on. 

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.

Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it. 

Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester. 

There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late. 

He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality. 

That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet. 

He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.

It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him. 

When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried. 

You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there. 

It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it. 

He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear. 

(A small, small  part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)

“Can you see it…?” 

The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in. 

“....It?” 

Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him. 

“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths. 

When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least. 

No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is. 

He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.

“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.” 

He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most. 

Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least.  He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one. 

Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined. 

“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.

You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.

“Yes,” 

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward. 

When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly. 

He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap. 

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you. 

“Of course,” He says  “Can I ask you something?” 

You nod your head and sip your tea. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?” 

He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you. 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.” 

Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them. 

“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?” 

“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply. 

“I thought you were a high school teacher.” 

He smiles. 

“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”

“Oh.” 

You look befuddled. 

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist. 

“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”

You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.

“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.” 

“You can’t use cursed techniques?” 

“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.” 

Vulnerable. 

“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words. 

“Is it that bad…?” 

Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.

“Do you carry anything with you?” 

“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.” 

“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.

“What other kind would there be?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?” 

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.” 

“Mm,”

His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.

“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look. 

“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?” 

He smiles. 

“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face. 

You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over. 

“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”

__ 

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.

He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A  bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing. 

Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat. 

He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie. 

Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.

It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles. 

None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen. 

A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary. 

He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit. 

But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached. 

Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head. 

He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror. 

Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that. 

He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic. 

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.

But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to. 

The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results. 

He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays. 

__

Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.

Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.

Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction. 

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it. 

Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next. 

Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident. 

The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control. 

The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing  heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure. 

These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them. 

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same. 

Then, he’s inside. 

The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate. 

All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that. 

Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything. 

He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do. 

Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you. 

They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for? 

It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything. 

It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line. 

“Showing signs of anxiety.” 

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting. 

He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do. 

“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,” 

He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy,  but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.

He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling  of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon. 

He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.

But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump. 

Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty. 

Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns. 

His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. 

Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with… 

He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms. 

The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious. 

He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job. 

Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question. 

“Why’re you still here?” 

“I knew I was going to get caught soon.” 

An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs. 

“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.” 

“What a weird kid. What led you to that?” 

There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking,  but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying. 

When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient. 

“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”

“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.” 

“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.” 

“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?” 

She gives Gojo a pointed look. 

“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.” 

“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head. 

“No. Your aura.” 

Gojo stares ahead. 

“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.” 

“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.” 

“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?” 

“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.” 

“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.” 

This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing. 

“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”

Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input. 

“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.” 

The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare. 

“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.” 

Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened.  He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently. 

“I’m sorry you went through that.”  Gojo replies. 

He’s being sincere. 

“Should you be sympathizing with me?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand.  She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone. 

“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“

“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.” 

“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is:  “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.” 

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too. 

“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”

Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.

“I can tell you're like me.  That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and  malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“ 

Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react. 

“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away. 

“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.” 

“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head. 

“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.” 

Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.

The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.” 

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”  Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread. 

“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”

She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath. 

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.” 

__

The case ends anti-climatically. 

Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken. 

The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.

On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser. 

Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene. 

He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.

Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now

So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves. 

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too. 

He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.

He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him. 

(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too. 

Above all, the offer is tempting.) 

In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little. 

He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire. 

He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees. 

He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body. 

He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen. 

He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most. 

As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles. 

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~ 

He laughs to himself. 

(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion. 

(sent 11:16am) For coffee? 

(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡

You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up. 

He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing. 

The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you. 

He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate. 

You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so. 

“Hey,” 

“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush. 

“They’re an important friend,” 

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend. 

“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?” 

This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush

“Not at all,” 

He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.

“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good. 

It’s a pleasant sort of day. 

Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time. 

Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together

There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.

After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too. 

(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for. 

There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.

The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story. 

“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes. 

You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do. 

“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.” 

Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you.  Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.

It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light. 

It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.

“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him. 

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,” 

He gasps in offense.

“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh. 

“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.” 

Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs. 

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully. 

“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater. 

“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?” 

Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.” 

Your frown deepens. 

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.” 

“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?” 

“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute. 

“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims,  soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours.  The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you. 

“What do you want?” 

“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully. 

“Heard,” 

Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him. 

“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums. 

“Mm, there’s always next time?” 

“You say that every time!” 

“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.” 

You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout. 

“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums. 

“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?” 

You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now. 

In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly. 

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.” 

There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy. 

The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag. 

You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo. 

“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?” 

“Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?” 

You nod enthusiastically.

__ 

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while. 

He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go. 

There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school. 

(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task) 

So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out. 

That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon. 

Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that. 

He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him. 

It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend. 

Time passes  comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned. 

But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember? 

“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―” 

So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind. 

It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you. 

“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?” 

Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye. 

Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me?” 

When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar. 

He doesn’t like it. 

You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.” 

“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” 

Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails. 

You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft.  You become helpless in front of his eyes. 

“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest. 

“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”

You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously. 

It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.

“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling. 

Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant. 

“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?” 

Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it. 

It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed. 

Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading. 

Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved. 

He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―” 

“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,” 

He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”

“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,” 

Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.

“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.” 

Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts. 

He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you. 

So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.

Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself. 

He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice. 

“About time to get out of here, huh?” 

You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together. 

The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless. 

Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?” 

You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?” 

You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day. 

You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time. 

The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close. 

He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter. 

“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away. 

“Okay,” 

He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything. 

And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you. 

You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.

“Let’s go sit,” 

You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying. 

Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe. 

“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,” 

The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth. 

“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.” 

“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh. 

“You….knew?” 

“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?” 

The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge. 

“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.” 

“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?” 

You nod softly. 

“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.” 

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk. 

“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,” 

“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh. 

“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly.  Gojo squeezes where his hand rests. 

“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,” 

There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own. 

And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes. 

In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does. 

But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.

It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t. 

Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you. 

“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,” 

You cry and cry and cry. 

And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound. 

__

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him. 

It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation. 

“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,” 

So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger. 

In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it. 

He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.

When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him. 

Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan.  He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law. 

(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)

 He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation  especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run. 

(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.) 

He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets. 

He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses.  It’s a lot like killing a curse. 

It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide. 

The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.

His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell. 

He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets. 

It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret. 

His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair. 

If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him. 

Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all. 

He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best. 

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job. 

He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job. 

There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them. 

After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time. 

It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it. 

You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind. 

Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.

If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them. 

He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7. 

When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet. 

He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark. 

Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out. 

“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around. 

When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body. 

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins. 

“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up. 

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?” 

“W-w-what…how did you…” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.” 

For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must. 

Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish. 

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic. 

It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys. 

Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too. 

“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs. 

“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?” 

No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice? 

“P-please, I have—” 

“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,” 

He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent. 

“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.

Gojo hums.

“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly. 

Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen. 

“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,” 

Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms. 

It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even. 

When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders. 

He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would. 

His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.

 With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving. 

Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back. 

A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone. 

__

The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed. 

(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)

At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself. 

It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs. 

“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…” 

The rest of the report  Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.

“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,” 

“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod. 

“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,” 

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence. 

“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?” 

You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor. 

“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,” 

Gojo pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement . 

“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” 

[carpkoinobori]

[☆] mean girls — momo x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): applause - lady gaga | moments in love - charli xcx | paparazzi- lady gaga | old friend - mitski | mean girls - charli xcx | west coast - lana del rey | pink in the night - mitski

summary: getting on the survival show sixteen was really just a way to kickstart your acting career. who would’ve guessed it’d take such a toll on you?

pairing: momo x actress!reader

tags: not that much angst, happy ending, barely frenemies traumabonded to situationship to kinda friends to lovers, reader is just a little unstable, there is a good amount of fluff though

wc: 9.3k

cw: dieting, mild sexual content, alcohol, cigarettes (smoking), mention of covid, making out (like 4 times)

ex: not beta read, timeline was as accurate as I could make it given the fact that for some reason no one knows where twice was at during november and october of 2017

a/n: is it me if the story doesn’t have either an ed/restriction reference or catholic elements.. I love charli xcx’s music. reader has a “disgraced” older sister

you were 17 years old when you were told you made it onto sixteen.

you were a JYP trainee— not for an idol group, no, for acting. Yet, you were put into singing and dancing classes. It was a bit weird, but as long as you could perform, you didn’t mind.

you did pretty well, actually. You weren’t a top trainee by any means— this wasn’t your true passion— but you were good. You enjoyed dancing, and were pretty talented with hiphop and other less restrictive styles.

your parents had forced you into ballroom, specifically waltzes, even more specifically the Viennese waltz, since you could remember. You were a prim and proper, well-mannered, upper class girl. Perfect for acting, perfect for the silver screen.

Your father was a business magnate— specifically in transportation. He wasn’t like Samsung, no, but a manufacturer of luxury vehicles. He designed trains, bus systems, even planes, at time— he was a talented engineer, of course, but most of the work had now been relegated to employees. When you told him you wanted to be an actor, he didn’t really mind. Your mother didn’t look like she loved the idea, but it’d be good for the family image, so she conceded. After all, you’d succeed, right?

right?

What they didn’t tell you about being on a survival show is how it gets into your head.

you were competitive by nature, fueled by your parents constant reminders you needed to be the best. You were the daughter of a powerful and rich businessman, with his perfect trophy wife— their only daughter needed to be perfect, of course.

you played instruments— violin, piano, flute— were in extracurriculars— tennis, skiing, dance, language classes— had an absolutely pristine record, and perfect grades. You were the poster child of perfection, a face fit for magazines and your family, the girl a mother would tell you to bring home.

But you know, it gets tiring to be so perfect. You hadn’t had any competition— until now, that is.

Sixteen perfect, beautiful, talented girls. Seven spots.

You had never felt more desperate to prove yourself than in that moment.

It was strange, really— you didn’t want to be in an idol group. You had never even considered it. Your passion was acting, it always had been, and it always would be.

but you had never been bad at anything your whole life. Everything you had tried, you had mastered, a desperate fervor to know and prove yourself. But here you were, for once, not the best at something— and it drove you absolutely crazy.

you needed to be the absolute best, the perfect candidate— the prettiest, the best singer, the best personality, the best dancer—

you couldn’t, though. and it killed you.

You met Momo when you were 15. It was 2013, some time in the winter, although you couldn’t quite remember. Some people said she looked like you, but you didn’t really see it.

She had been a trainee for longer— since 2012– you had never really gotten the chance to talk to her, on account of the fact she didn’t speak Korean. Momo was Japanese, same as Sana. They were both close, obviously, and you had noticed they took Korean language classes with a tall Taiwanese girl you never bothered to learn the name of.

There were the trainees everyone knew would debut— Nayeon, Jihyo, Jeongyeon— and the trainees people didn’t really speak about.

You were somewhere in the middle. You had a lot of skills, both in instruments, languages, sports, and acting, but you weren’t a top trainee by any means. You stayed comfortably in the upper middle, a chance at debut but not too high, not too low to be kicked out, either.

You could dance well, of course, although you sometimes felt a burning pang of jealousy watching Momo dance. She was good at it, unreasonably so. It came so naturally to her. Like she didn’t even have to think about it.

and she was pretty, too. long black hair, black eyes you could drown in. You didn’t to stare too long. She was just.. noticeable. It’s not like she ever noticed. When she was dancing, the only thing that mattered was her reflection in the practice room mirror. Her friend, Sana, would glance at you once or twice, whenever you stared.

She knew.

you never noticed.

Practicing for the competition was obviously stressful, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You were determined, strong, not weak. You learned English, Japanese, played the piano, violin, you had kind of forgotten the flute but you could, once— you had skied since you were four, played tennis at six— you didn’t know, yet, but you would graduate high-school as valedictorian, taking the maximum amount of AP’s for the last four years.

You’d practice till you got a move, perfectly. You were the first to enter the practice room and the last to leave.

you know, contrary to what you’d think, your father’s money isn’t what got you into JYP, or their idol program, or SIXTEEN— well, maybe it played a part into getting you into JYP, but the rest was all you. All your “friends”, other kids you knew, same or richer than you, spent their time partying, shopping, crashing cars and drinking.

some, of course, worked like you. There were parents who didn’t care what their kids did, and parents who needed their children to be the paragons of perfection. Usually, the more high-class your parents were, the more in the public eye they were. Korean standards were strict, and if you didn’t mean it, you’d watch your family apologize for you on public television, renounce your name, and at times, wipe you from the will. Most kids got a pass, their parents pulled some strings, and they were free. But others? Well, the kids that were forced to work hard were usually the ones who had to pay a price.

you would not be disgraced like your sister. She lived in America, now, and you hadn’t contacted her in two years. Not like you missed her. Not like you counted.

“Momo, have you noticed that rich girl staring at you?” The dyed-brown haired girl questioned, twirling a pen in their shared dorm.

“What rich girl?” The long haired girl blinked, black hair dyed close to the same shade of her friend.

“The one sitting across from us? The one that the instructor always says you kind of look like,” she reminded, unimpressed, gesturing at her subtly with the pen.

“Why would she stare at me? She’s the daughter of some famous Korean businessman, we’re two random Japanese trainees,” Momo pointed out, causing Sana sigh and lean in a little closer.

“Momo, that’s not what I’m talking about! Even before she got moved to this dorm, she’s always looking at you. Maybe she’s jealous, you two are always getting compared to each other, after all, and I bet she feels threatened-” She rephrased, Momo’s eyes widening before she cut her off.

“Sana! Quiet down! She could hear you!”

“She’s Korean, Momo, she’s not going to know Japanese, let alone a dialect,” she pointed out, crossing her arms, flicking Momo on the forehead with an amused smile. “You know, I’m starting to think that time you hit your head really did have an effect on y-!”

“Actually, I’m fluent in both Japanese and English,” a cold voice piped up. “I don’t speak the dialects, but they’re understandable,” you added, shifting on the bunk-bed to rest on your hands, a carefully blank look on your face.

Sana turned to you in shock and embarrassment, and Momo pointed at her childishly, exclaiming, “I told you so!”

Sana and Momo had only been in Korea for about a year, at that point, and their Korean wasn’t exactly great.

“Ah.. I’m sorry..” Sana began, slowly, in Korean.

“I just told you, I speak Japanese. You don’t have to speak in Korean. That’s why they placed me here, though. To help you two with your Korean,” you informed, pronunciation sharp and undeniably the standard Tokyo-way of speaking.

“Right.. I’m sorry for talking about you,” Sana began, again, feeling a little humiliated, which made her a bit annoyed. She wasn’t a gossip or anything, you just stared at Momo a lot. It was noticeable. You two were constantly being compared to each other for your similarities in looks, after all.

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, with a wave of your hand. “I’m sure it seems like I stare a lot, but it’s just because I like to analyze the competition, not because I’m jealous of.. well, you two,” you voiced, regarding them both with an amused smile.

To be completely transparent, you were a little jealous of Momo. She was an absolutely amazing dancer. But of course, no one had to know that.

“You know we’re going to be on a survival show, don’t you?” you asked, with a tilted head and pointed stare.

“Well, yeah, we know.. but why am I competition?” Momo blinked, pointing at herself.

You let out a sharp, pointed laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You’re not a bad dancer, and don’t rank too low, either. It’s a seven member group. There’s not a lot of room to be mediocre,” your words were calculated, given sharply, seriousness gracing your words. Momo frowned, mood souring slightly at your clipped, dismissive tone. She didn’t notice, though, how serious you seemed— how some cutthroat ideology laced your words.

Sana did, though. As much as Sana presented herself as an airhead, she was unbelievably smart— especially with people. She knew intentions, how to talk to people, how to get what she wanted with words. You knew this, and recognized her for what she was— a clever, determined, but kind girl. She’d do what she needed to do to get what she wanted, of course, but she’d try to help you along as far as she could. It wasn’t clear to you, yet, if she’d give up her space to let someone else take it.

You weren’t sure you’d ever know.

“Anyway, I have some essays to finish. I’ll graduate this year,” you added, breaking the tension, laying on your bed and taking out your school laptop, beginning to write.

The two Japanese girls stared, dumbfounded, and quietly slinked out of the room after a few minutes. It was too awkward, and you seemed so unbothered, unflappable after that little display— some of the other trainees were intimidated by you, whispers of how you were only in this program to “challenge” yourself, or that it was sure you’d debut because of your father, or talents, or how you were the smartest trainee— all rumors, all untrue. You were placed here for a reason unknown to you, and didn’t even rank particularly high at the moment. You were slowly climbing the ranks, though, and had sat comfortably in fifth place by the time SIXTEEN started.

Although, you’re sure all those people who whispered about you in the halls would be shocked to learn that you’d never end up debuting in the nation’s girl group. A successful actress, of course, but an idol? That wasn’t your fate to have.

Right at the end of June, falling into early April is when filming began.

Your life became practicing, training, working out, practicing, showcasing, and only barely sleeping.

You were still in a dorm with Sana and Momo, although a fourth girl— Chaeyeon— happened to be there as well.

She was the first to be eliminated, though, and it was just you three again.

Sana and Momo had gotten very close with another, younger Japanese trainee named Mina. Mina was very pretty, and had done ballet, and you could already just feel she would debut.

You liked Mina. She was probably who you were closest with. She grew up pretty well off, as well, and did ballet. You could relate to her, and she was the only one you’d keep in touch with after the show.

It was getting harder and harder to believe you’d debut.

Nayeon and Jeongyeon would definitely debut— Mina would, too, along with probably Momo and Sana. Dahyun was really popular, as well as Tzuyu, and there were only seven spots. Jihyo was too good of a singer to be sure what the final lineup would be, and Chaeyoung would be a good rapper— it was all so confusing. It made you all the more desperate to prove yourself wrong, though, because a part of you knew, deep down, you wouldn’t debut. A week before the first day of filming, you had snuck out to the convenience store. It was dark, late at night— you had a craving. Your father smoked cigars, your mother drank vodka and whiskey— not mixed, of course.

you were just scraping 18, now, having graduated in February. You couldn’t legally have a drink, or even smoke till 19, but a part of you itched to try it, curious.

obviously, you weren’t going to risk ruining your image. You loitered around the store, scanning the aisles, but ultimately not buying anything, unable to find something worth possibly gaining weight for.

the managers had been particularly strict before the start of the show.

you went back to your dorm, still restless, and exhausted at the same time.

the life of a trainee was draining.

When SIXTEEN began, everything shifted. You and Momo were still dorming together, but Sana was moved with Mina and there were a lot of other changes.

you were becoming antsy and restless. Watching people get eliminated was taking a toll on you. You ate less, slept less, practiced more— it was getting to you.

momo had begun eating less. a lot less. You couldn’t afford to be worried, you had to focus on yourself.

What no one would tell you about a survival show is that bonds are fickle. You wanted to care about other people, but once you had gotten a taste of the applause, the fans, all the love that came with being in the spotlight— you got hooked.

you were popular among the fans, your skills weren’t bad, maybe you could really debut. It started worming it’s way into your head.

the hunger and exhaustion was making everyone a bit volatile, a bit too confrontational— you were guilty of it, too.

you refused to build any friendships, while you were there, but built a very strong rivalry with Momo.

Everything she did, you did, trying to do it better.

You’d practice at the same time, next to each other, giving backhanded compliments on form and criticism to each other’s footwork and lines

You’d try your best to outdo each other, fueled by the constant comparison and the fact that you two were almost never on the same team together.

but when Momo was eliminated, you felt your heart drop.

you told yourself it was good, less competition that way. But a part of you felt.. empty.

you practiced, going through the motions, but it felt wrong. It was all robotic. There was no passion or emotion, and for that, you were eliminated the ninth episode, along with another girl.

from there, you threw yourself back into acting. You made your acting debut about a year later, months after Twice had debuted.

no one would ever know, though, that you had watched of the rest of the episodes, and congratulated Mina on her debut, telling her you were happy the three of them (Mina, Sana, Momo) would get to debut together. You debated on telling Momo yourself, maybe heading to the practice rooms to do so, out of begrudging respect and happiness, but you never did.

and so began the next nine years.

year 1; mid-May, 2016 | Korea

you had just exited the JYP building, into the cool night of the city after light rainfall. May wasn’t ever too hot, an easy 70 degrees out. It was a bit cold, but that was nothing. It was maybe thirty minutes to twelve, the city sparkling like the stars that were drowned out by smoke and light pollution.

You leaned on the building, debating on whether or not to go out to eat or just go straight home. You were pushed out of your thoughts when you heard the doors open and close, glancing at the person exiting the building.

Momo. Hirai Momo, with light caramel hair, now, looking tired, in some casual practice outfit thrown together hastily.

she still looked good.

her eyes were dark, glancing at some message on her phone. The bright white light illuminated her face, and you were about to quietly slink away when you both made eye contact.

“Momo,” you began, always eager to get the first word in, but not sure what to say.

She stared at you, obviously recognizing you. “Y/n,” she greeted. “I heard you’ve made your acting debut. Congratulations,” she offered, and the Korean off her tongue didn’t sound exactly right to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I saw that you debuted. The song was good. Congratulations,” was your reply, tone polite. Momo knew that you and Mina still spoke, even going out to eat together whenever you both had the time, which wasn’t often.

“Thank you,” she replied back, and you hated how awkward everything felt.

“Well, I’m gonna g-”

“Do you want to come with me to the convenience store?” Momo asked, suddenly, immediately backtracking when your words registered. “If you have to go then go, don’t worry about it, nevermind,”

“I’ll go,” you agreed, not entirely sure why you did. “I haven’t eaten yet, anyway,”

the two of your walked a bit far off, entering the convenience store with a little chime and feeling the need to make conversation.

“So.. Momo, why are you practicing so late?” You asked, conversationally.

“We have so many albums and songs lined up, for this year.. we’re working on one right now. I’m sure Mina’s told you,” she murmured, voice low so as to not disturb anyone.

“She’s mentioned that you’re all.. busy,” you agreed, and you noticed how she looked thinner, more tired, somehow older in the span of a year.

she was still beautiful, of course, but you’ve been seeing beautiful people your whole life.

“Is it what you wanted?” You asked, forced lightness in your voice, though it might’ve come out more accusing than you wanted. It wasn’t her fault you got eliminated. Kind of.

She looked at you for a long time, fingers ghosting over some matcha candy you couldn’t name, parts of a life you probably wouldn’t ever see.

“I think it will be,” she replied, looking at the selection of green, instead of at you. the night was warmer on the walk back to your dorm. A grassy, slightly bitter taste sat comfortably in your mouth.

you’d have to start drinking matcha, more.

year 2; early November, 2017 | Korea

Likey had just dropped, and signal had won Twice international success. They were pushing Japan, doing promotions there so constantly you had half a mind to just ask them why they wouldn’t move there, and a nomination to the Korean Popular Culture and Arts Awards.

you were there too, of course, for your roles in a myriad of dramas, at that point.

You had been the lead role in “Strong girl Bonsoon” and “My Ghost” respectively. You were young, yes, 19, almost 20, now— but you had achieved amazing successes, just like the girls you sat near, now.

there was a reason there were almost no pictures of twice at the awards, and you couldn’t find their speeches.

You won, not unsurprisingly, as did Twice, and sat through the performances. You spoke to Mina, easily, but she went to go talk to Jihyo about something, at one point, and you couldn’t really remember or care— both you and Momo could drink now, and they were giving out free champagne.

as the performances closed, everyone had received their awards— you headed to the bathrooms. They were empty, and you stared at yourself in the mirror. Face flushed, hair and makeup still intact, though, black silk dress unmarred by any stains, something you’d bought just to prove to yourself you made it, had your own money now, didn’t need your parents—

the door opened, and Momo appeared inside. It took one glance and the sound of a lock clicking before her lips were on yours.

she tasted like good alcohol and something sweet, your hands in her perfectly styled hair. She pressed you against the wall, your pretty and pink lipstick mixing with her darker one, pulling apart after nearly a minute and a half, panting, your eyes dazed and dilated.

“you have an apartment now, right?” she murmured, breathless.

you did have an apartment, bought the second you turned 19, trying to prove you didn’t need your parents, still. You had made it, for fucks sake.

“I do,” you answered, and you both managed to make it there without any cameras flashing.

your apartment was near the Han river, a testament to your success. It was small, one bedroom, with a large-enough kitchen and spacious living room, large windows that let the city lights in.

the apartment was bathed in a cool, blue glow, by both the night sky, and the building outside the window.

You and Momo had stumbled into the space, hurriedly locking the door without breaking the kiss, barely making it to the bedroom. The apartment had large, wide windows, taking up nearly the entire wall. There were curtains, of course, but they were a bit sheer, and white. The lights of the city illuminated the dark room, letting your fingers fumble with the zipper of Momo’s dress, getting it off.

Her hair was mussed, and you were sure yours was the same, but you didn’t care, right now.

Lipstick stains adorned her mouth, the two of you having created a muted, glossy color, that would later become a favorite, then something you hated, to something you’d think about, fondly.

She took off your dress, carefully— it was Dolce and Gabbana— although hers was much the same, in the sense that it must’ve been designer, as well, although you didn’t bother to check the tag.

Both articles of clothing ended up sprawled on the wooden floor, anyway, forgotten.

you kissed her desperately, the two of you thoroughly lost in each other.

your skin burned, her hands feeling too hot, your brain slowly melting away every other worry other than her.

to be honest, you were a little too drunk to remember everything that had happened.

you kind of wished you did.

Waking up the next day at four thirty in the morning was rough. Running on two and a half hours of sleep, you groaned when you heard Momo’s alarm go off.

she didn’t wake, though, you had turned it off fairly quickly, and the alcohol mixed with the sex— the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, for some reason— had knocked her out cold.

you watched her, for a bit. Hirai Momo was beautiful, you’d always known that. You never really realized it till now, though. Soft, short brown hair, dyed, a peaceful expression, smooth skin bathed by cold light, in a mostly white space.

your apartment was sparsely decorated, feeling more like a museum than a home. You didn’t even call it home, just ‘the house’ or ‘the apartment’. There wasn’t any life to it. It wasn’t a place to get attached to.

You contemplated waking her up. You didn’t really want to, but you knew you had to.

“Momo,” you murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. “Momo, you have to wake up,”

She groaned, turning, screwing her eyes shut. “No.. I’m tired,” was her muttered response, and you could barely even tell if she was speaking korean or japanese (it was japanese, she had only been in korea five years at that point. that’s not enough time to completely switch languages).

“Momo, your alarm went off, you need to get up,” you urged, speaking in japanese in hopes it’d get through her head, better.

She let out a sound of protest, but opened her eyes, sitting up. “What time is it?” She muttered, running a hand through her hair. The both of you weren’t wearing clothes, obviously, but the sight of her was still a little much for so early in the morning.

“It’s fifteen minutes to five,” you informed.

“I have to be at Inkigayo at five thirty,” she exclaimed, eyes widening. “Oh god,” she cursed, under her breath, distressed.

“Look, you can borrow some of my clothes. No one’s gonna know it’s mine,” you muttered. “You can keep it, so we never get caught for sharing clothes. Plus, the worst that could happen is we say you slept over because I invited you to go eat, or something.. it doesn’t matter, we’re two girls anyway,” you explained.

Momo stared at you, dumbfounded, still processing the words that came out of your mouth before agreeing. “Okay, yeah.. can I use your shower?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant when she was naked in your bed, and looked too fucking good for having just woken up. Fuck those instructors, you definitely did not look like Hirai Momo. You wished you did.

you handed her a simple pair of pink sweatpants and a dark red hoodie. They weren’t things you had actually worn, yet, just thought they were cute. Momo wasn’t too far from your height, anyway, so they fit fine.

She showered, changed, and it wasn’t that long of a drive to Inkigayo, and a taxi could probably get her there in fifteen minutes.

it was 5:15, now, and she was drying her hair on the balcony. You had also gifted her a pair of white sneakers, to complete the outfit. It fit their concept, anyway.

you were on the balcony, too, watching the sunrise with a Bohem Cigar Shake hanging out of your mouth, lit.

Momo didn’t smoke, you had learned when you offered her one. She didn’t like the smell.

truth be told, you weren’t the biggest fan, but these were sweet, they left an aftertaste in your mouth a lot of people hated, but you kinda liked it.

You put it out on an ashtray once you accidentally burnt your finger tip, sucking on the mark and snubbing the cigarette out with your other hand.

Momo gave you a slightly concerned look, but you assured her you were fine.

she left in your clothes (no one would ever know, just you and her members) into a taxi you paid for, to perform at a music show you’d watch.

you and momo met on and off for the rest of that year, between promotions and award shows and restaurants and going shopping with Mina and taking pictures together and her visiting you on set—

the public called you great friends.

at least they didn’t see where her hands tended to rest.

year 3; mid-February, 2018 | Japan

you were 20, officially.

Twice had begun their Japanese tour, releasing Candy Pop a week into February.

the 14th was the Gaon chart music awards, which twice attended, of course.

you were still filming some dramas in Korea, but had managed to get time off to go to Japan. For no other reason than the fact Japan was beautiful in February, of course. It’s not like you attended the Gaon chart music awards to see Momo— no, Sunmi had released some good music, too, and of course you were friendly with all of twice.

the after parties for the awards were always fun.

“Momo, wait,” you murmured, breathily, pressed up against some wall in the buildings seemingly-millions of bathrooms.

“What?” she blinked, deep brown eyes blown wide, staring deep into your own.

“I didn’t.. it’s. I got you something,” you admitted, quietly. You handed her a small, dark red box, that you had kept in the small black bag you had taken.

you were wearing 2017 MiuMiu, a black minidress that your stylist had complemented with pearls and silver, tightening the waist and removing some of the collar. What was left was a striking black dress, soft fabric, and a lower neckline, paired with, of course, a vintage black MiuMiu leather handbag.

“Open it,” you instructed, to which the other girl did, to reveal two Mikimoto pearl earrings, having 18kt gold yellow gold posts. You had found it at an auction, they weren’t relatively expensive— $500– and from ten years prior. You thought they’d suit her, and so you bought it.

she just stared at you, a bit surprised, dumbfounded—

“Why’d you get me this?” were the words that slipped out from her mouth. She had the same shade of lipstick on, this time liquid, and your lips were colored with a pink gloss, girlish.

“Don’t you know what day it is?” You laughed, amused, tilting your head. “It’s the fourteenth of February,”

“You got me a gift for valentines?” She clarified, slowly, recoiling, a grimace slowly morphing onto her face.

you noticed, of course.

“No,” you lied, easily. “For the win,”

you both knew it wasn’t true, but allowed yourselves to indulge in the lie just a little more.

you two were just high off the high-life, making it big for the first times in your life.

momo left your hotel room before you saw her in the morning.

the note; “早退してごめんなさい。コンサートがあったんだ。” (sorry for leaving early. there was a concert)

you knew there was no concert the fifteenth of February. momo was a horrible liar, but you knew, later, from photos, they were in an airport that day.

you never asked to where.

(It wasn’t a question, but she did send you a silver-chain necklace, a pearl-heart pendant, march 14th. you hadn’t taken it off)

year 4; early August, 2019 | Korea

you were nearly 21, now.

“Momo, who the fuck is Heechul?” you spat, looking at a news article. The girl, who now had black wavy hair, a little lower than her shoulder, was currently lounging in your bed. Promotions for Dance the Night Away had just started, and she looked better than ever.

Her eyes widened, and she sat up, looking hurt and a little panicked. You never spoke to her like this, not since Sixteen, and you both rarely spoke in Korean, anymore.

“What do you mean? He’s just a friend-”

“Don’t lie to me,” you cut in, sharply. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I gave you those earrings, Momo. Why?” you demanded, the anger masking all the hurt you felt.

she was silent, for a bit, drawing into herself, looking to the side and holding her arms.

“We can’t be anything more than this,” she murmured.

“What?”

“I have a career. I have a group, I can’t just.. leave it all,”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, a little high pitched.

“We should stop. You.. you like me too much,” she decided. “It’s safer if I’m.. you know, with a guy. It won’t be favorable, but it’ll get people off us both. People talk too much, nowadays,” she continued.

“I mean.. it’s just that.. you know, we’re both girls. That’ll ruin both of our careers. And I like being an idol. I won’t.. I won’t just give it up,”

“Momo, are you serious?” You exclaimed, shocked. “You’re refusing to see me, when we’ve been pretending to be just friends for over three years now, and instead.. you’re gonna date some guy? Momo, that could ruin your career, too! No one knows about us, I haven’t told anyone! Why are you being so-“

“It won’t be as bad as if it were us two,” she reminded, pointedly and acidly. “Not all of us have a rich family to fall back on. I had to work to get here. I will not give it all up just because you want to.. to play around, and pretend we’re in love!” She cried, aggravated.

you stared in shock. You didn’t even know what to say, the whole reason you refused to use your parents was your desperation to be independent from them.

you knew what they’d do to you if they found out what you were.

you didn’t want to have to rely on them, in case they ever found out.

you didn’t want to be like your sister.

“That’s not fair, Momo. You don’t-“

“I do!” She shot back. “I do, this is fair! This is my life, this is my career, you don’t get to tell me what I should do! Just- god!” She shouted, throwing her hands in the air, collecting her things. She got dressed, fixed her hair quickly into a bun, and stormed out of your apartment.

“Don’t contact me again,” were her low, parting words.

year 5; early January, 2020 | Korea

you had just turned 21 a little bit ago. the rest of 2019 had been absolute hell. you saw Momo everywhere you went— on advertisements, on tv, heard her on the radio.

and now, New Year’s Day, it was confirmed that she was dating Heechul.

you were in your apartment, still mostly empty save for a few things you had bought for her— like a tea kettle, an assortment of matcha flavored snacks, a second toothbrush—

everything hurt.

you did the only thing you could think to do.

you called your sister.

it was eleven something in the morning in New York, she’d have to pick up.

“Hello? Y/n, why the hell are you calling m-“

she was cut off by the sound of a choked sob, more like a hacking, and a shaky inhale.

“I get it now,” were your broken, pained words. “I fucking get it now,”

“Oh, y/n,” she murmured, quietly.

“I’m so sorry,”

10 years prior; late September, 2010 | Korea

“I’m gay. I have a girlfriend,” were the earth-shattering words your sister, freshly 18, had dropped on the shoulders of you and your parents in the middle of a family dinner.

“You’re what?” Your mother asked, slowly, giving her time to play it off. She stood, steadfast.

“I’m gay. I have a girlfriend,” she repeated, clearly.

Your father and mother stared at her, for a long while. You didn’t really know what would happen, yet— you had never heard your parents even mention their opinion on homosexuality, but there’s no way they’d care, right? It didn’t really matter-

“Get out,” were your fathers cold, flat words.

your sister nodded, once, clenching her jaw. She packed her things, appearing back downstairs within twenty minutes. (she had already packed the day prior. She knew how this would go).

“Wait, why does she have to leave? I don’t-“

“She’s not your sister anymore,” your mother informed, curtly.

“She’s not apart of this family anymore,” your dad restated.

“But.. why?” You asked, barely 13.

“It’s unnatural, and bad for the family image. It’s not good for us,”

you didn’t really think that was enough reason to kick a child out. But you couldn’t argue.

your sister left, that day, passing you her number secretly.

you didn’t have a bad relationship with your sister.

but for a few years, you refused to talk to her. You would not disgrace the family, you would not give up everything—

you just couldn’t understand why she give up a cushy life of luxury to go to school in New York, all for some girl.

“You’ll understand when your older,” she’d tell you, quietly, over the phone, when you both still got the chance to talk— before you had become paranoid of getting kicked out, like her.

“One day, you’ll meet someone you’ll love. You’ll love them, to the point that nothing matters as long as you’re together,”

“I don’t think I will,” you’d reply, so sure. “That’s stupid,”

“It is, isn’t it?” She’d laugh.

“You’ll get it, though, one day,”

you had flown to America, right in the beginning of 2020.

you went to New York, to live with your sister for a bit— you just needed to be around family— family that wasn’t your parents. you got an offer to shoot a drama there, anyway.

you had no idea you’d end up stuck in america for nearly a year, due to Covid.

whatever, you’d think.

not like you’d have anyone to come back to in Korea.

In America, you were more free.

no one particularly cared what anyone was doing— you couldn’t go out, and you were alone in the apartment you had rented.

your sister would come over with her girlfriend— now, wife, because you could get married, here— sometimes, but not often.

you smoked camels, now, unfiltered, by the balcony, overlooking a city so much the same and too different.

you texted Mina, a lot. She kept you updated.

you both made a point not to talk about Momo.

the necklace Momo had gifted you was left in your jewelry box in korea.

the house was a perfect snapshot of your life, then, untouched by changes.

it was a picture frozen in time.

god, fuck this place.

year 6; late June, 2021 | Japan

you were 22, now, having made it back to Korea in late may after finishing your drama, finally getting everything together and back to your apartment in early June. Your return was publicized, there were a few people who still came to the airport even with all the restrictions, but you had made it back to your country.

it had really helped, to get it all out, put everything in perspective.

you still smoked camels, now you drank tequila— the remnants were mementos of a life most people wouldn’t see.

you flew to Japan, though— you had the prospect of an ambassadorship, and they wanted you to fly over, for some reason.

you messaged Mina about it— maybe you two could meet up, go eat. you hadn’t seen her in a while. you spoke, gave her your hotel and room number, and you both agreed to see if you could schedule it.

the next day after you'd messaged her, there was a knock on your door.

you thought it’d be Mina.

Momo had shorter black hair now. It suited her.

Momo had hurt you.

you cried for at least three weeks. She seemed happy enough when you saw her through a screen. she was still with Heechul. She shouldn’t be here.

you opened the door.

momo’s eyes were watery, and she looked up at you, pleadingly.

“Y/n,” she began, voice shaky.

“What do you want?” You snapped, even though you didn’t really mean to.

“We broke up,” were her words. You stopped, for a second. You knew what this was. You were her rebound.

“I-“

“When I saw you came back, I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, y/n,” she murmured, crying now. “I didn’t want- I- I just.. I was so scared. But, I just- I can’t- it’s been too long. I can’t keep going without you, I need you, I..”

you pulled her inside, shutting the door, locking it, and pressing her against it. You hadn’t forgotten how her hair felt in your hands, soft and silky, how she always tasted a bit sweet.

people said she was a peach, but she didn’t exactly taste like it.

except for when she wore the peach lipgloss you got her, one time, as a joke.

she ran a hand through your hair, tugging on the strands, pulling you closer. god, she kind of reminded you of herself.

her tears made the kiss taste salty.

this time was different. it was not slow, it had no love in it. she had hurt you, she had left you, and now she was crawling back.

you left marks where no one but her would see. you ran your teeth over her pulse point, but never bit down.

your kisses were bruising and filled with anger and resentment.

this was a bad idea.

this was always going to be a bad idea.

it was only around 11 when you had both felt too tired, resigning yourself to sleep.

momo had hated sleeping alone, without you.

she pressed her face into your neck, eyes screwed shut. you felt a little bad, despite yourself. you had been a bit mean..

“Momo, go to sleep,” you spoke, softly, carding a hand through her short black hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for leaving. please don’t-”

“It’s okay,” you interjected, because you really didn’t want to have to hear the rest of her words. “I don’t have a schedule tomorrow, anyway,” which was not true, you had to go discuss the drama you were shooting at one in the afternoon, but you weren’t telling her that.

they weren’t the exact words she wanted to hear, but they were as close as you could get, right now.

you ran a hand through her hair, as her arm stayed around your waist. she was clinging onto you, like you’d disappear.

you probably should, to get back at her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to quit.

momo was kind of like every bad habit you couldn’t quit— smoking, drinking— they weren’t good for you, but they made you feel better.

she was addictive, like that.

but here, in your hotel room bed, kind of like last place you saw her, now the first time you’ve seen her in almost a year and a half—

she kind of seemed like something you really couldn’t live without.

July 8th, 2021 | Japan

they had flown back to Korea the day prior. You were still in Japan, when you saw the article.

momo and heechul had finally announced their break up to the public.

good, you thought.

you had gone out to eat with Mina a week ago, you both talked about your lives— work, vacations, how busy you both were. you asked about her members.

July 1st, 2021

“How is everyone?” you asked, with a tilted head.

“Everyone’s good, I’m happy we’re back in Japan, I got to see my parents, so did Sana, so did..”

“you can say her name, you know,” you muttered.

“Listen, y/n, I’ve tried not to get involved, but this isn’t good for you two. After you left, Momo could barely sleep. She ate less, too, and she still had to go on dates with Heechul to make it look real. She didn’t even really want to date him, she was just-”

“I know, Mina. But- you know, it’s not up to me. She’s too scared to be with me. She doesn’t really love me,” you chuckled, though it was more bitter than amused.

“I think she does,” she replied. “I just don’t think she’s realized it yet,”

year 7; late May, 2022 | Korea

“Momo!” you called, just a few months into being 23.

you had decided to pick up Momo from the airport.

now, fans would never know, but you just really wanted to see her.

she had been in the U.S. for months, now, touring, and you had missed her.

even with all your miscommunication you both still met up, sometimes— you visited your sister as an excuse when they held their concert in New York City.

you did meet with Momo, after the show.

“How was America?” You asked, in english, as she got into the car. She looked tired, her hair now ash-blue and a little longer.

“Good,” was her response, a tired smile under the mask.

she coughed, and you glanced at her, a bit worried.

“Nayeon and Tzuyu are sick, too,” she mumbled. “Can you take me to the apartment?”

and so you did, the apartment she shared with Nayeon. You helped her with the luggage, and you tried to kiss her but she moved her face— she didn’t want you sick.

Nayeon, Momo, and Tzuyu all tested positive for Covid-19 the following day.

To no one’s surprise, you tested positive for Covid as well, but with very mild symptoms that felt more like an annoying cold.

you obviously couldn’t go to any filmings or schedules, and Mina ended up positive too—

so you drove to Momo’s apartment with soup. Like a lovesick idiot.

Nayeon let you in, and you knew better than to not bring her some soup as well. You handed it to her, and went straight to Momo’s room.

she looked.. sick. coughing, exhausted, you were sure she was achey and had a headache.

her fever wasn’t too bad, on account of all the medication she was taking.

“Momo?” you called, running a hand through the girls hair. “I made you soup,”

she sat up, blearily, looking a little hazy.

“I’ll get you sick,” she mumbled.

“I’m already sick, don’t worry,” you assured.

you fed her the soup, because you were that painfully whipped, talking quietly about what you had been doing since they went on tour.

you made her take some Tylenol, because her face felt hotter when you put the back of your hand to her forehead.

you got up to leave, but she grabbed your hand, tugging you back like a child.

“can you stay?” she mumbled, looking at you pleadingly. you would never say no, of course.

it’s not like you had something better to do.

for the rest of the time you were sick, you would visit Momo, watch dramas with her, sleep in her bed, next to her— you both acted so much like a couple Nayeon pulled you aside after almost a week.

“Y/n, I don’t know how long this thing with Momo has been going on, exactly, but it looks like you make her happy, so.. thank you. It’s been a lot, lately, with touring and Heechul.. take care of her, okay?”

she walked off before you could explain that, no, you two weren’t dating, and you were scared that if you asked her to date you she’d run away again.

you had to go shoot some drama, again, even if you really didn’t want to, after you tested negative.

you both got busy, after that. Especially you— you had so many dramas to film.

February 8th, 2022

@OT9TRANS … BUBBLE MESSAGE 🍑💬 220208 MM: I have watched Call, watched Burning, watched Nothing Serious, and Money Heist. I have watched them all🫠❤︎ MM: i really like y/n l/n nim ♡ She’s my style 🫣

year 8; early January, 2023 | Korea

it was your 24th birthday party— you had turned 24 in winter of last year, but this was the only day you could make it work, because Twice had another tour starting in February.

You invited them, all 9, to noraebang— karaoke. obviously, some of your own friends came, too. You had made a lot of friends in the industry after so many years.

Momo’s hair was still black, grown out a bit more, but not as long.

you all sang and drank— Nayeon, particularly, having a good time singing every Twice song she could.

you sat next to Momo, pleasantly tipsy, and everything felt warm.

it was a little crowded, but you had rented a bigger space than normal. It was dim, the only lights coming from the screen in front of you.

after a little bit, you slipped outside. The place you rented had a rooftop, and you planned to make full use of it.

The skyline had changed from 8 years prior. It used to have less buildings, smaller skyscrapers— now it almost seemed as if the blue and red lights of the city were truly the stars in the sky.

You lit up a cigarette, this time, Cheyenne peach, and took a drag.

you heard a metal door open and shut.

Momo sat down next to you, and you offered her a drag.

she wrinkled her nose.

“They smell, y/n, why do you still smoke them?”

“Just a bad habit, I guess,” you shrugged.

she plucked it out of your mouth, tossing it to the side.

“It’s bad for you,” she chided.

how ironic, for her to say that.

“There’s a lot of things that are bad for me that I still do,” you replied, quietly.

she was silent, for a second.

she held your face, pulling you closer. She tasted like soju, which is to say smooth alcohol, of which you’ve been drinking the whole night.

it was sweeter than usual, because you can’t stand bitter tastes, and you noticed Momo was wearing nearly the same shade of lipstick as six years ago

your hands held her waist, loosely, the both of you sitting back on your heels, only leaning forward for each other.

when Momo pulled away, you felt a little dazed.

“I don’t want to be bad for you,” she mumbled, and all these years had seemed so childish— just two girls, trying to figure it out. You never wanted to hurt each other. It was just fear, and maybe a little shame, and so much love that it nearly drowned you.

“Momo,” you began, quietly. You knew that what you were going to tell her would force her away from you forever, but you didn’t care.

“I love you,”

the confession hung in the air, ringing through resounding silence. Seoul in January was cold, and your breaths could be seen in the air.

when Momo didn’t reply, you felt tears well in your eyes even if you knew this is how it would be.

“I’m sorry,” were your nexts words, and when you hiccuped, Momo finally broke out of her daze.

she screwed her eyes shut, snaking her hand to your nape, pulling you into her, kissing you desperately.

“no, don’t apologize,” she muttered, between gasps for air.

“I love you, y/n. I love you,”

it felt like the world stopped, in that second.

“I’m sorry for.. being scared, but I’m not anymore. I love you,” she repeated, wiping the tears from your eyes, thumb caressing your face.

“Really?” you asked, hope and fear mixing into your words. This could just be some cruel joke, after all, it could-

“y/n,” she said, seriously. “I love you,”

you leaned in again, and it was softer, now, feeling a year roll down your cheek, not from sadness but from relief, and happiness.

“God, Momo,” you choked out. “I love you so much,”

you both stayed like that, for a little under half an hour, telling each other all the things you wished you had so many years ago, making hopeful promises and swearing never to hurt each other again.

“Here,” Momo said, suddenly, producing another small box.

it was a beautiful silver chain bracelet, with a little pink gemstone in the center in the shape of a small star.

momo had the same bracelet on her wrist, though the gemstone was in your favorite color and the chain was in gold.

“Happy birthday, y/n,” she offered, putting the bracelet on your wrist.

you smiled, genuinely, eyes crinkling. You pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, softly, before a teasing smile worked its way onto your face.

“You’re beautiful, too, so do you think you could be my gift, instead?”

that comment earned you a slap on the shoulder and a chiding ‘yah’, but it gave you the view of Momo’s face flushing pink, and the sound of her infectious laugh.

“If you ask nicely, I’ll consider it,” was her response, in the end.

you and Momo were definitely dating, now, and you leaned your head forward, resting your forehead on hers.

“How do you say girlfriend in Japanese?”

Momo’s cheeks turned a little pink, again, and she was well aware you already knew, but she indulged you. It was your birthday, after all. “恋人” she mumbled, but you knew well enough. (lover)

a smile grew on your face.

“I know you already know Korean well enough, so you shouldn’t call anyone else 자기야 but me, okay?” you informed, mostly joking.

“Sure,” she agreed, smile blooming on her face at the thought of you calling her your girlfriend. “Anything you want,”

year 9; early April, 2024 | Korea

Momo’s black hair had stayed the same for almost two years or so.

it was still a bit short, but you didn’t really care.

you were 25, now, didn’t smoke anymore, having been dating Momo officially for nearly a year.

You two had actually gone on a date— you had been commenting on each other’s Instagram jokingly for weeks now. Her fans had been convinced she would “not pull” with her.. strange choice emojis, but they didn’t know you had already fallen head over heels for the loser you were currently sat next to.

you went to go get something to eat, with her, and it was still a little cool in Seoul.

you took photos, together— and posted them— something you would’ve been terrified to do a few years prior, fearing a dating scandal or something worse— the destruction of your careers.

your worlds weren’t as scary, anymore. Twice had been around nearly 10 years, and you had been acting for the same amount of time. The public loved you, and though you didn’t feel like announcing your relationship status to the world, (you were both private, like that) it was nice to know that if anything were to come to light, you and Momo would be safe. Korea had gotten a lot more accepting, over the years.

your parents were still the same, though they had become less strict about it. Your sister came home, sometimes, and your mother might actually love her girlish and kind wife more than her own daughter.

you made jokes about it, frequently.

your dad didn’t know about Momo, neither did your mom— your sister did, but after what happened to her, she wouldn’t force you to tell them. You didn’t think your parents would freak out, demand you to leave and disown you— but you didn’t want to risk it.

on breaks, you and Momo would visit Japan, or any other city she wanted to go to.

if she had a fashion week schedule, well, you’d try to go! Especially as a fellow ambassador of MiuMiu. The public knew you both as close friends, so any antics were now ignored and written off as just friendship.

honestly, your house was better, now, because of her. The apartment was no longer something not lived in, out of a catalog—it was filled with little reminders of you two.

photos of each other, your achievements on a bookshelf, a tea kettle you’d thought Momo would like, her clothes she’d leave there, plants you thought would make the place look better, little knickknacks from traveling, a second toothbrush—

it felt like a home, full of little curios and plants, a reminder of the life you loved with Momo.

and now, as you sat next to her on the couch the two of you had bought together, under warm lighting and lights of the city outside the window, so much different than the one from the skyline eight years ago, completely different buildings but the same cool, multicolored glow, taking pictures for an Instagram post that others would call like it was, a “date”, but never know how real it really was—

you pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling into it, as she took the photo.

she turned to you, an amused expression on her face, albeit a bit surprised, perfectly tinged the pink shade of the lipstick you used to wear—

“What was that for? You know we can’t post that-”

“I love you,” you interrupted, with a stupid smile on your face.

“I love you too, silly, but we still can’t-”

you cut her off, again, pressing a kiss to her lips, discarding the phone, somewhere, smiling as you cupped her face in your hands.

those pictures, of you two kissing? They wouldn’t be posted.

the rest would, of course, a day late— you had gotten a bit sidetracked.

it didn’t matter, though.

you truly, irrevocably, loved Hirai Momo. She was beautiful, talented, funny, kind— you could keep going, there were a million and one reasons to love her.

but for some reason, she loved you back.

A/N: hi guys!! I had been thinking about this plot line for actual weeks but I managed to finish this in 10 days.. crazy.. I only started actually working on it 3 days ago though LMFAO

so.. there was a lot of research put into this fic. I tried to make the timeline as close to the one in real life as possible, but obviously there will be some inconsistencies. y/n is momo’s fav actress if you could not tell.. I wonder why

i don’t exactly love how this fic came out— I kind of lost the plot and repeated myself a lot. it actually came out completely different than how I originally imagined, which is why the song doesn’t exactly match? but I hope you enjoyed!

I will hopefully be posting more frequently.. I have a few things in mind, but my works take me a long time because I usually set them up, get the plot, then sit down and finish like 8k words in two or three days.

not beta read, I’m tired, maybe tomorrow.

please feel free to send asks and reqs! I love talking to you all <33 id love to know what you think..

I must sleep, now. goodnight, byebye!! ><

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ FLIGHTY

tw. uncle!satoru, incest, age gap, breeding, coercion, dirty talk, praise, brief choking, baby as pet name, some jealousy, degradation, corruption kink, sneaking around wordcount. 6.7k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @antique-remains ♡ thank you so so much for commissioning me and for being absolutely wonderful!! i really hope you enjoy your fic,, i had a blast writing it so i kinda went a little crazy with the word count but! hgdfsy listen i hear gojo satoru i jump into the deep end i hooopppee you enjoy it lovely!!! <33 and thanks a million to the beta readers ilY so much

gojo satoru x fem!reader

The door rattles with a loud noise as you make it two steps down the hall. Two whole steps before long arms wrap under your shoulders and you’re whirled around against an equally lanky body, while your giggles fill the hall. They echo down the old family house, pristine and proper, and give your mother a well deserved moment of rest as she rolls the suitcases inside. “Hey- There’s my favorite little squirt,” his lithe voice hums gleefully when you press a childishly sloppy peck onto his cheek and squish your face to his shoulder, and Satoru barely bothers to give your mom a quick smile before stealing your entire attention away and putting you into his neck with a smile.

“You gotta visit more frequently, nee-san. I gotta show my favorite niece what I’ve learned at monster school, don’t I?”

Your chubby cheeks glow hot as you parrot him. “Monster!”

“Your only niece. And you’re more than welcome to take a few babysitting shifts, Satoru. Lord knows I could use it,” the soft-spoken woman would then chuckle, and leave you to it.

That’s how it was, always. You remember finding the days where snow stuck to the ground and made the house feel so much toastier, the most lovely of all- no excuses, no exceptions. Not that you could give a reason as to why, back then. It was probably because winter meant family time and holidays and presents, and most of all, it meant packing everything up into the car and driving down for New Years. Without fail, a white winter meant Gojo Satoru — and without fail, you’d look towards him like a world faithfully orbits the sun.

You can’t thank Satoru enough for taking his role so gracefully, at the time. When it was still fun.

Now winter means being locked up in your room while that same man parades around a different princess each year, and makes your start to the new entirely unenjoyable. After a good few hours of hearing the drinking and talking grow louder and louder -and then eventually quieter again, you finally dare peak your head around the corner. Because if you’re lucky, uncle Satoru will have no self-control. And the copious amounts of alcohol that festivities require will leave him blissfully unaware of your scowl at the foreign pair of shoes by the door. Your bare feet pad on the floor as you make your way past the soft rumble of the tv, and into the kitchen to pop open your own box of cake, and another bottle of bubbles for yourself.

The frosting sticks to the roof of your mouth three bites in, and makes everything a lot more palatable. The smell of the obnoxious festive scented candles, the deep beats of the slow make-out music reverberating through the walls of his otherwise impeccable apartment. The knowledge that you’re meant to wait out the inevitable turnaround from festive cheer to loud moans down the hall as the countdown hits 0. It’s been this way for years now, and you find yourself wishing spring would come a little faster.

You’d never be so lucky, though. You drop the fork in surprise when long fingers sneak around your neck to squeeze gently at the soft parts of it, and a breath brushes over the shell of your ear. “Boo.” Festive cheer and a softer familiar musk overtakes your senses.

“Satoru, you dick,” you squeak out a little too loudly, halfway to turning when a strong arm wraps around your hips to allow him to slot a little closer to your back. He peers over your head at the cake, breath dusting over your hair. Uncaring, of course, about the level of appropriateness or the way it sends a shiver up your spine.

“Bit early for a late night snack, isn’t it? You could at least have asked your favorite authority figure to join you.” His smile gleams in the low light of the apartment like a million diamonds, white head of hair tousled and bed-head like. The hand on your hip squeezes ever so softly before you shake him off, and cross your arms over your chest in defiance.

“You’re barely an authority, let alone my favorite. Besides, aren’t you kept busy with… Keiko? Kyoko?”

“—Kimiko. Why?” It’s then you make the mistake of looking up into those perfect baby blues through the half-tinted shades, and despite your earlier frostiness, he still searches for a handhold on your shoulder, softly brushing his thumb along the collar of your shirt. He stares like he can see through you, where your heart beats wildly in your chest. You’d dare bet money that sometimes he definitely tries to. But the calculating glances that flick over your face are kept quiet by a faint hum.

“She’s gone home. I thought maybe we could celebrate New Years together this time.” Satoru is always smiling. It crinkles his eyes, seems to ooze out of him like syrup. He’s good at that. At feeling trustworthy. But— “We still have a good twenty minutes until the fireworks. Come celebrate. For me?” There’s no mistaking the way he leans in to nudge your face up and puts on an exaggerated puppy-like pout. Gojo Satoru is anything but trustworthy.

But hard lessons are slow to stick. You find your mouth opening almost like instinct, sugar-coated tongue running over your lips as he waits. “Fine, until after the fireworks. Only ‘til then.” His mouth corners go a little more cat-like when the grin grows further, and he rubs his heavy palm and long fingers over your head with a soft chuckle.

“Right? You’d never leave your poor old, lonely uncle Satoru alone on a special day, right?”

The couch is abandoned for a slower sort of swinging around the living room once the clock starts getting close, and Satoru places another flute of golden bubbles into your hand— grinning as you move to the beat. Try and resist as you may, Satoru has given you much to be thankful for. The heat of his hand back on your head distracts you from the way the drink goes down too quickly, letting him pick your hand into his to pull you closer. “Have you ever slow danced before, pretty girl?”

You don’t get to say anything before you’re in his arms, hands to his chest and quickly sliding down to wrap around him instead, swallowing down the stirring heat that hits when he chuckles. You must be crazy. Must be. Your heart feels like it’s banging in your throat. But Satoru rests his chin on your head into the embrace, and swallows you up into his arms. And your throat burns like a raging fire yet again. It isn’t like that. It isn’t like that. You’re the one making it weird, and you know it. But you can’t help the goosebumps when he presses a kiss to your crown, or when he pauses to look down at you.

Grinning like he’s got the world in his palm, he leans in to almost brush noses with you. “This is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Gojo Satoru,” you immediately feel the warmth flare up on your cheeks and ears, eyes going wide. But the grin is back instantly, and he chuckles.

“Alright, don’t get your panties into a twist.” The air of his breaths dusts over your nose when he stares, and doesn’t look away. “You’re so obvious when you want something. It’s cute.” He’s awfully, disturbingly pretty. However weird it is to notice that about your own mom’s brother… you never were able to lie yourself out of that conclusion.

The clock ticks loudly, counting down. But you can’t tear yourself away, blinking blankly at the way he gives your face a once over, before those eyes find yours. Glittering brilliantly, pulling at your sanity. You did always adore him. The first few fireworks go off loud in the distance, when your own uncle Satoru dips down and kisses you. You freeze. Warm lips and tongue pressing into your mouth- he full-on kisses you and runs a hand along your neck to pull you into him. A muffled squeak makes it’s way out of you, warm tongue getting to taste all of him. You- you don’t stop it. When he pulls back, his mouth lingers over yours, and that devilish mouth whispers, “happy New Year, baby,” without any ‘sorry’s.

+

The flowers are already starting to bloom in the colorful pots that swing outside the windows when you nurse your own cup of tea, and don’t bother lowering your eyes when bright azures meet your gaze. There’s something there that tingles your tongue, faint memories biting at your conscious, but too swift to grab hold of. You can’t read him anymore. It makes the familiar glint in them feel anxiety inducing. The gaze shifts, and you feel your spine relax. All tall, perfect, unfairly casual grandeur of him goes back to entertaining your cousins and Megumi— and your attention is finally allowed to shift back to your mom.

“Deary me… That child seems like he’ll never grow up,” she softly chimes, turning your way to take your hands, “I bet you’re twice the adult he is.” Her slight frown is one of fondness though, of care and concern; all of which only makes your stomach drop further. Your mom’s so enamored with her tight-knit little dream of a family. She’s completely unaware, too. Of the deadly, treacherous words that your mind whispers to you when it knows no one’s watching. Your mother’s warm smile remains. “If you ever decide you can’t keep up with him anymore, you’re more than welcome to move back home, honey.”

“I know, mom— but I like Tokyo. I like my friends here, and- my job’s here, and I like my job.” Her hand makes an encouraging circle over the back of your hand, and she nods.

Her warm smile doesn’t keep away the cold flare that travels down your back though. “And you also like Satoru, for reasons I still can’t wrap my head around.” Her look over in his direction has you resolutely studying your lap instead, as heat travels back from your chest to your face. “Even when you were little, your uncle ‘Toru could do no wrong. It was infuriating at times…” You try to put on a smile when you feel her eyes return back to you, and let the cup bear the brunt force of your anxiety. “Now I just think it’s sweet. I know I couldn’t deal with his antics anymore, for even a few days.”

“He’s…” You trail off before you can even get started, and let your tongue swipe along your bottom lip to get rid of the pesky memory again. You feel like your moral compass has been compromised. Your stupid little crush was meant to go unacknowledged, and fade. No one was supposed to be any the wiser. Satoru was never meant to do wrong. He’s -what- exactly, you try to ask yourself. Sneaky? Childish? The reason you can’t look your own family in the eye without blushing like a schoolgirl?

Your heart blooms when you catch a glimpse of his smile as the beer bottle brushes his lips, and he finds your shape again across the room.

Before you get a chance to look away, uncle Satoru’s already calling your name again with that sing-songy tone that’s got you hooked; and pulls you out of your seat with a few slow blinks. “There’s my favorite girl.” He swings an arm over your shoulders, and invades your senses yet again. “It’s getting a little too stuffy in here for your liking, hm? Mind if I steal her for a while?” His sister barely gives him the tiniest of eyerolls before waving you both off. And the white-haired force of nature doesn’t even stop to ask you. He knows he’s right.

Before long, the glances of family get captured by other things, and the honorary member of your family gives you a knowing look that you mirror. Not that Satoru would let it stop him if he saw. You only just look away from Megumi’s grimace before you freeze into place. There’s the tiniest of kisses to the skin behind your ear where Satoru whispers in your ear. “I was really missing you, baby.” There’s a heat that spreads all over you as he continues, barely hiding his affections. “Whenever I see you… I just wanna…”

Your eyes go wide when you turn to stare at him, then quickly around at the rest of the guests. Luckily, everyone seems too preoccupied to notice the way he wraps his arm around your waist to steer you towards the front door. “What? I wasn’t done.” he chimes, eyes glinting over like the Chesire cat, “I wanna come annoy you, is what I was going to say.” Alarm bells should go off. You want them to signal your disaster. But no such thing happens, and the way his lips almost drag over your pulse makes your entire body feel like you’re filled with static. “You know uncle Satoru loves you. Step out with me for a bit.”

+

The miserable drum of rain has no way of drowning out the thoughts in your head. A heat-caused thunderstorm should just be a minor inconvenience, but it feels awfully telling about your current state. The string of messages of Satoru’s latest -what you can now assume is- ex blink back at you as you check the time again, and sink deeper into the couch. The apartment always feels a little too cold when you’re here alone. And sure, you’ve been living here too, but you’ve been on your very best behavior all this time. Taking up only the space he was willing to give.

So you sit in silence as the room gets darker and darker, and instead of checking up on work mails, you let the icy silence of the apartment sit beside you. The messages weren’t exactly frantic, but— the door clicks softly across the room, and the pitter patter of the rain on the skylight grows even more impatient. “Uncle ‘Toru,” you breathe as he drags his wet self in, only to suck your bottom lip into your mouth.

There’s only a few times you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing him like this. One was the first summer his best friend vanished into thin air, a shallow copy of your beloved left behind in its wake— and every few years after that. It drains all the color out of him, squeezes until there’s nothing left.

He looks drunk. He smells drunk too. But you still cross your arms and straighten your back, swallowing. “Ki-chan was worried about you. She says you two broke-”

“She’s right.” Satoru drops his bag by the tv, and unceremoniously kicks off his socks in the middle of the living room, slauntering towards the couch.

“Is that why you’re like this?” Your worry is undermined by a harsh snort and an equally unamused chuckle, before the white-haired man comes to a halt before you.

“Don’t be stupid. You and I both know it’s not.” His eyes are usually like the ocean on a summer day, bright, all-consuming, and peaceful— there’s nothing there when they land on you now. Just the dark, dreary image of a cloudy, uncaring vastness. “Get up, I’m trying to sleep here for the night.”

“I’m not leaving.” You’re not sure if the slight tremble in your voice is self-inflicted, but do your best to bite through the electric tension. “She also said that you’ve been saying all kinds of things that make no sense. Things about— me. And that’s why you guys broke up. She’s worried that you might try to do something to me.” Gojo Satoru is a lot of things. More things than a man with his constitution should be, all in all. Your light breath cuts the tension just enough for you to speak up again, staring up at him from your increasingly vulnerable position on the couch. “Well, will you?”

“Get up.” Before you have another chance to ask more, he takes you by the arm and pulls you up out of the couch in a split second, leaving you stumbling back. “Run off to your room now.” Smart, coherent thoughts leave you. Satoru looks like he’s hurting. Those long, white lashes and blue irises are no longer bright and understanding. They frame a simple look of distaste at the sight of you, and your rapid heartbeat falters. “I said, now.” As your tongue brushes your lips you search for something— anything— to say, but it seems he doesn’t want to let you. With large steps, he walks you back by your collar until your back hits the wall, and you stare up at him.

“Isn’t it bad enough that I already want you? What more do you need?” The cold, still wet touch of his thumb brushing your collarbones tingles down your entire body. “Tell me off. Hit me. Do something.” He’s basically begging now, through hard glares, teeth and a raspy voice. “Tell me off for treating you like this.”

You think you should. But all that you manage to say is a soft plea, eyes searching in the dark. “Uncle Satoru, I- I’m sorry.”

“Baby.”

His grip makes your shirt dig uncomfortably into your neck, but you barely feel it. Instead you raise your hands to cup his face, watching how the furrowed brows straighten out after only a few tight breaths. You mumble out a breath of his name, and allow him to pull you closer to his body until you’re pressed to his chest, face hidden against his collarbones. Until he leads you to look up at him and lets his lips brush over your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. “Your mom would kill me if she knew.”

You know him to be right. And still, you let his mouth meet yours. Meet and claim your tongue, hiking your one thigh up to allow him to melt against you. Rolling his narrow hips just a little too effectively against you. It’s way too much all at once, hot and cold meeting in the dark where his body grinds against you. You shouldn’t… allow any of this, right? But it feels too good to stop. Satoru clearly thinks so too when he grunts your name against your mouth, and his crotch rubs into your center.

It’s not hard to know what he’s thinking about as he drags his lips down the soft of your throat and sucks kisses into the skin. His strong fingers slide under your shirt to anchor at your waist, and leave goosebumps all over. “My pretty girl,” he ends up mumbling as his tongue makes shapes at the base of your throat, “you’re all mine. All fucking mine. Mh- never gonna let anyone have you.” It feels so good. Hearing that, however distorted by the moment— makes you feel like you’re floating. So much so, that it scares you. To think anyone would have such power over you.

Satoru goes in for another kiss, but you end up sliding out of his arms by mere chance, panting and shivering from the wet hands all over you. You take one single deep breath, and rush off down the hall.

+

When you sit at dinner the next day, rolling your veggies around your plate as you cast him weary glances from under long lashes, Satoru doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even blink out of place once, like the night before was just a dream. You’d really believe the slight ache of a hickey at the base of your throat to be an unlucky bruise, if you couldn’t notice the faint glances your way. After a while, his telltale grin slips back on when you startle at his voice, and he points his fork towards you. “You’re acting weird, you know that?”

“I- I’m acting weird?” Your voice pitches up almost comically, and his gleeful chuckle has your heart racing despite yourself. “W- about yesterday-”

“I’m taking you somewhere tonight.” Though the interruption should annoy you, he looks so content and smug as he stuffs the last of his food into his cheek, that you can only frown. His hand runs through his mess of white hair, noisily smacking his food as if to make a point. When you don’t immediately respond, he nods to himself, before leaning in. “I woke up with the worst headache of my life, I’ll have you know. But I’ve gotten over myself, I promise. And now I just want to hang out with my favorite niece.”

“Only niece,” you end up parroting, clenching and unclenching your hands into your skirt. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Call me ‘uncle ‘Toru’ again, and I’ll tell you.” You never tell him no.

As you walk through the hall with slow steps, the light falls like broken petals through the paper walls and casts everything in a hazy glow. For all your protests, uncle Satoru follows close behind, chirping all kinds of encouragements, giggling most of the way through. The lazy patterns he draws on your shoulders with his thumbs, or the brief brushes of his nose along your cheek, kisses behind your jaw— it all should make you feel a lot guiltier than it does. Instead you’re just wound up, skin tingling with every touch the longer it lasts.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re here now?”

He hums that melodic agreement, before pointing you towards the rather familiar door at the right. “If you go in there, I will.” At your slight frown, he only presses on. “I promise. Come on, trust your favorite uncle.”

“You’re not my favorite.”

His voice grows low as his lips brush your ear, and those strong arms start gliding down the sides of your back. “Liar.” The kiss that is pressed to your pulse is slower this time, humming in your throat and making you swallow your words. His mind hasn’t changed after you ran out. Instead of focusing on that- on him, you reach for the door and slide it open, finding your and Satoru’s room barely changed at all. His hands come to press at the sides of your hips, long fingers trekking all over the skin he can reach. “I’ve been thinking for a while now…” His playful voice dips a little lower, and your breathing grows slower and slower. “I always meant it when I said you were my favorite... but-”

“But it’s a little different now, hm, pretty girl? When did you change so much?” Those hands that start sliding up along your thighs to hike your skirt up to your belly, and though you try to keep it down with a little breath, he denies it. “You don’t like it? That I wanna see all of you?” The little hum to your soft throat makes you feel like you’re charged to the brim, crackling each time he moves. It’s unbearable, and yet, you couldn’t move a muscle if you tried. “Tell me that I’m a bad guy.”

You can’t focus on anything. His nimble fingers toy with the edge of your panties, and the puff of his breath sends a shiver down your neck. “W-why’d you take me to our old- ah- place?” Satoru doesn’t wait for you to catch up before the frilly fabric drags along your thighs. Your awfully wet underwear lands around your feet, and he leans in to nudge your face to his. Kissing you over your shoulder as his body covers you from behind, and his waist pushes up against you. His tongue steals your attention away from his hands just long enough to lose track of them before they’re on your tits, squeezing them and making your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Because I wanted to prove something.” He rolls his clothed waist against your ass and makes that awful feeling even worse, forcing a whimper out of you. And that mind-numbing fucking laughter returns before his hands start moving to your center. You’re not sure if you want to push him away or ride his fingers with the slow drag of rough fingertips along the inside of your legs— not that it’s up to you anyway. “You’re no longer that good girl that’d idolize uncle Satoru, right? You’ve started thinking about other things when I’m around, hm?”

Fingers slide through the embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs with another noise from him, pressing his hardening cock harder against you and grinding it against you- and you have to fight the urge to just get face down on the floor for him. “F-fuck, baby, you’re already dripping all over my hand. Does uncle ‘Toru turn you on?” Two prodding digits slide into your clenching hole as he grins against your cheek, and his free hand meanly pinches a nipple. “C’mon, tell me. Tell me how much you like me.”

“Mh-ack, I- li-like you.” He goes to pull his hand back but you reach for it, and push it back inside to have his hand palm rubbing up against your clit. “A lot, I like you a lot! Please.” The curl of his long fingers inside you is enough to have you shaking, leaning back against his chest with one shoulder, and hanging onto his wrist. It doesn’t take much to have him smiling into the hickey he’s sucking under your jaw, and fighting back your resistance just enough to start pushing another finger inside. The slight ache is almost instantly replaced with the pleasure of having your clenching pussy filled so full. Everything blurs a little when you reach back for him for support, and his strong hand fucks smoothly in and out of you. “Mhm, ah, ah, I love my uncle Satoru. Sa. To. Ru.” Slick runs down your leg and makes his entire hand sticky, and he hums in agreement.

“That’s a good little niece. Love riding my fingers like this? You’re shaking, baby.” He knows what it does to you, must’ve known for a while, when his voice is pressed to your skin— it leaves you a mess. You try to respond, but your tongue gets all tangled, and you can only whimper and nod as his fingers fuck right into the spot you need them to. Your back curls against him as your legs get shakier, and your poor clit is grinded against his palm until you can’t focus on anything else. It feels so good. Good, good, good, good~ You want to keep riding his fingers forever.

“Lay down for me,” he rasps when you really start rubbing back against his hand, pussy so messy and full and your lips glossy with spit— and you almost cry when he starts pulling back.

“No, no no nonono, uncle Satoru, please. I’m close,” you squeak, only to allow him to push you down by your shoulder and watch as he slots his fingers between pink lips. “Hm- I- can I cum? Please?” Your thighs rub together as you lay down, and Satoru kneels before you to pry them open wide enough to fit his shoulders between.

“Shh, lift your ass,” he quickly chants, getting comfortable between your legs as his hands pry you open, “let me taste my favorite pussy the way I want.” His devilish mouth is on you before you can register it, hot and instantly too much. Your puffy clit is laved in licks and sucks that hit the spot just right, and every nerve end fires in a way that no one else could ever accomplish. His hums and the brilliant glint of his eyes as he watches you tear up and moan, lifting your ass closer to his face as his tongue licks and fucks your dripping pussy. He laughs when eating you out so good your eyes cross, before latching his mouth around your overstimulated nub for real, and sucking the light out of your vision.

Your legs shake before you’re clenching them around his head with a long, high-pitches whimper and a string of moans that roll through your body— and Satoru just keeps going, until you’re twitching and you try to push him away. Your breathing is rapid and shallow as you blink the black spots on your vision away and loosen the grip you have on his hair, but your legs still shake as he brushes his thumb over your pussy without pity. “That’s one. Wanna see how many more I can get you to?”

“No,” you immediately squeak, making his smug grin grow even wider. “I wanna… first, wanna have you- i-inside.” Admitting it is different than thinking it. And you’ve thought it, too much to count- but it still heats your cheeks and ears upon seeing the way Satoru’s lashes flutter a little, and he pushes his pants down to take his flushed cock out.

“Yeah? You want your uncle Satoru’s big cock inside you?” His hand wraps around his thick length with a little hiss, sliding his hand over the swollen, dark pink tip as you watch. “Say it properly, and I’ll give it to you.” You roll onto your side to yank your shirt up over your tits, and impatiently shake your ass as you whine out a noise that barely seems to register as you. But you can’t help it. The buzz from your orgasm only made your belly hotter, slicking up your legs and ass and dripping for him- as he sits up on his knees so slide his pants down further.

“Satoru~ please.” His hand moves up and down a few times as he raises a brow, and knocks away your hand when you try to touch yourself. “Please, please, puh-lease~” Your voice cracks when you lay back instead, and knead your tit as you try to pull him closer by wrapping your legs around him. “I want to have- uncle ‘Toru’s cock. I want to have my own uncle’s cock, I love my uncle- and I want- to be his personal pussy to use~” Tears spring up in the corners of your eyes, so you close them. “Now please just put it in. I’ve waited long enough-”

A little chuckle breaks up your begging before he kisses you deep and greedily, and suddenly the hot head of his cock pushes up against your sopping entrance. “Want it so bad you gotta cry about it? Poor baby.” He just about pushes in the slightest bit, and takes a slow breath to stare into your eyes. Pretty. So fucking pretty, all of him. “Sorry I made you wait. Uncle will fill this little niece's pussy up, don’t worry.” Then he pushes in with a slow press on your tummy that makes you blink back tears, as his heavy, hot cock breaks you open a little further, along with your sanity.

The smack when he bottoms out is a brief relief, before he pulls back and uses those strong legs to start really fucking into you, nose to nose. “Letting your own family fuck your greedy pussy like this, look at you. I’m a bad influence, hm?” The weight of him, the brushing of his pelvic bone to your clit, the grip on your thigh and brushing of your tits and every brief brush of his lips over yours is enough to have that coil pull back so tight in your stomach too quickly. You dig your nails into his muscular back as each pap of his balls smacking against your slick-covered ass rings out in the room, and the white-haired man hums. “Uncle Satoru’s your favorite, say it. That you’ll beg for my cock until you go hoarse.”

He presses his nose to your temple, and pants against you- fucking with a rhythm that’s taking the breath out of you. You’re already going to cum again. “Say that you want uncle Satoru’s kids filling up your belly, ahg- go on— mhm, that tight, t-tight fucking pussy.”

“Yes, yes, I want my uncle’s cum inside! My favorite uncle’s ruining my pussy!” you squeak, and then cry out against his neck. “I’m gonna cum again, uncle ‘Toru. G-gonna- agh-ughn- p-please don’t stop.” The thrusts get even deeper if that’s at all possible, lifting your one leg up to grind the head of his cock against your cervix with the position he’s got you in, and goes to cup your pussy. And even that slight touch is enough to have your vision going black and white, head blanking as another orgasm rolls over you and locks your leg around his hips— but the fucking doesn’t stop even then. “Agh-mygodI-ah, ahgh-nh. Uncle Satoru.”

It’s too much, you’re entirely too hot and sweat is rolling down your temple and his chest, but his cock still drives home over and over again like he’s willing to break you in half. You don’t want him to ever stop. “Hearing that filth coming out of your mouth- ugh, mhm, makes me want to keep fucking you forever. For eternity.” His waist bumps your overstimulated clit each time he bottoms out, ring of white around the base of his cock before he throws his head back and moans out your name. “You can’t ever let anyone know how much uncle Satoru loves fucking his little niece, okay? F-fuck. How much I love ruining that little attitude of yours.”

Your both knees are pushes to your shoulders as he moves up, pulling out just a second to fuck between the sloppy lips of your pussy. “Been wanting to fuck you since you moved in. Can’t help but get hard when you’re around. Bad uncle ‘Toru, right?” The head of his cock is so swollen and flushed and dripping with your mixed juices, and he stares at you through narrowed, perfect eyes as he pushes back in and watches his cock disappear into the hot clutch of your pussy, swallowing it up like a whore. His lip is pulled between his teeth as he groans, and fucks harder and faster into you like you’re barely a toy. “But I don’t care. Uncle’s gonna fuck this pussy every day from now on. My pussy. Mine.”

You can feel him in your throat with the way he pounds your pussy until you’re raw, squeezing your throat between his long fingers as his heavy balls hit you. And his mouth covers yours, tongues back together and spit messily covering your chin by the end of it. You don’t think eternity will be enough.

+

There’s some kind of failsafe inside every human, isn’t there? And yours is simply malfunctioning at the wrong times.

The woman hanging off his arm is lovely. Mina, you think it is. She’s smart and pretty and accomplished, and her hair has that perfect commercial shine as it bounces around her shoulders. And Satoru is laying on the sweetness thick, from what you can make out between the giggles and shiny smiles. Underneath the obnoxious shades hiding his pearly gaze from direct view as he makes quick work of scanning the beach. It sits in your stomach with an uncomfortable rumble. Even though you know… It’s for show. It’s all just for show.

You do your best not to frown when he looks back over his shoulder for a second to drag his eyes over you. “We should play beach volleyball!”

And a soft chuckle from the person by your side agrees when you can’t be bothered to. “You got it!” The blond is smart enough to give you a softly encouraging grin that makes you feel vindicated in your exasperation, before you stick up your own thumb. You have no intention of watching Satoru leave hot handprints all over her skin. The young man beside you clearly notices your hesitation, because he smoothes a palm down your spine to straighten you up a little, before blowing out a long breath that makes you smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll keep him busy if you’d rather lay in the shade for a little longer.”

Kenji’s fingers softly brush along the small of your back, then teasingly slips them under the knot of your bikini, as his mouth comes to hover over your ear. “Or we could sneak away for a little bit and…”

“And get caught for indecent exposure?” you giggle over your shoulder instead of letting him kiss you, and grab for one of the books that had gone untouched earlier in the day to tap it on his head. “We can’t,” you breathe with a smile, and watch as he takes that as a challenge. Really, you’re not one for fighting fire with fire. That’s Satoru’s play, and you don’t have any intention of mistreating anyone. But … the adoring gazes and personal attention does make the whole ordeal a lot easier to stomach. So easy even, that you’re down in the toasty sand with him above and your chest rising and falling rapidly for a few blissful seconds, before the volleyball hits the both of you on the sides.

Your eyes snap over to the head of white hair when he clears his throat, and holds his hands up in mock apology. Serene, picture-perfect smile plastered on his handsome face. You click your tongue, and you can’t hold back the angry echo of his name in your head as he walks up. “Sorry, sorry, my bad! You guys coming or what?” This whole song and dance is just— so frustrating. Despite your best effort to keep it in, a slight tick in your brow still makes its way onto your face.

“You guys start without me,” you breathe after a few seconds of staring Satoru down, allowing Kenji to pull you up from the sand to dust you off. “I’m going to go grab the sunscreen and the coolers from the car.” Kenji makes an attempt to stand, but you wave it off in favor of putting some space between you and the tallest as his crystal eyes drill holes through you. “No, I got it. Thanks though.”

By the time Satoru’s “girlfriend” walks up and slips underneath his arm, he raises a brow your way, and the glitter in his eyes makes you convinced that he knows just as well as you do. You do your best to ignore him — them, but you can still feel the sting of him appraising you through those stupid shades. Asshole. You swing your hips as you walk away, kicking up sand every time your slippers bounce up.

At least the short walk allows for a moment to cool off, and collect your thoughts. There’s no sense in getting fed up. He’ll just get home and start cracking jokes like always, pretending like he didn’t do something wrong in the first place. Nevertheless, you allow yourself only a short sigh and admittance of defeat in the little game you play as you click the trunk closed again.

Before you turn and walk into a solid chest, almost scaring you skittering back against the hot surface of the car. Large hands descend on you, one to wrap around your waist and the other covering your mouth- before he leans down further into your space. “So, so grumpy all the time.” Uncle Satoru’s rough handpalm slides down to grab a handful of your ass before he lowers his face to yours into a languid kiss, tongue tasting vaguely like strawberry as he drags it over yours with a hum. “Stop trying to make me jealous.”

“I’m— I’m not! And ‘m not grumpy. I just don’t want to see you,” you end up breathing out, wrapping your arms instinctively around his broad shoulders when those long fingers start toying with your pussy through the awfully flimsy fabric. “Satoruuu~”

His chuckle is matched with the impatient way he rubs two fingers up and down along your slit, and slides his other hand down your smooth stomach to start peeling it all off. “Call me uncle Satoru, c’mon baby. You know what I like.”

You barely have a chance to place your hand over your mouth to keep quiet as he noses your bikini top out of the way to drag his pink tongue languidly over your puffy bud— and those baby blues find you through wispy, white lashes. “Uncle ‘Toru, unc-cle ‘Ru— You’re gonna get us caught.” He sucks part of it into his mouth and leaves a mean mark with his teeth, before grinning.

“Hmm. I don’t care.”

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